


A Light From the Shadows

by firecat



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Escorts, Break Up Talk, Car Sex, Cunnilingus, Deepthroating (mentioned), Demons, F/M, First Dates, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Fucking, Game Shows, Hand Jobs, Hell, Home, Hurt/Comfort, Interrogation, Kidnapping, Kissing, Large Cock, Loud Sex, Making Out, Mirrors, Nipple Play, Semi-Public Sex, Serial Killers, Sex Work, Torture, Undercover Missions, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism, Whiskey & Scotch, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 20,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/pseuds/firecat
Summary: A serial killer is murdering sex workers. Chloe Decker and Ella Lopez, new to the LAPD, go undercover as escorts to flush out the killer. Also on the team is an eccentric male escort, Lucifer Morningstar.
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Ella Lopez, Chloe Decker/Dan Espinoza (background), Chloe Decker/Ella Lopez (brief), Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 39
Collections: Fic In A Box





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Corina (CorinaLannister)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorinaLannister/gifts).



> Spoilers for _Lucifer_ season 5
> 
> AU/canon divergence:  
> Set in ~2002. Chloe & Ella have just started at LAPD; Lucifer and Maze have been in LA for several years.
> 
> See end note for warnings (which contain spoilers).

Chloe Decker isn’t comfortable working with Vice on this case. She’s brand new to the LAPD, and she suspects they’ve stuck her on it as some kind of hazing thing. But she has no choice, especially since it’s such a high profile case. Yeah, the police have a reputation for not caring when sex workers get murdered. But when one of the sex workers is the daughter of a bigwig city official...who wants the murderer caught yesterday...AND wants his daughter’s profession kept out of the press...

It’s still an open question whether the murders are the work of a serial killer. The FBI profilers say no, not enough similarities between the victims...they’re not even all the same gender. But they’re all escorts, and they’ve all been killed the same way, with a rather gruesome knife. The press has already got a nickname for the murderer: the Escort Killer. The police don’t have the murder weapon, but they know the crescent moon shape of the blade. 

Still. Couldn’t the brass come up with a better idea for tracking down this clown than having the new women officers go undercover as escorts themselves? 

Chloe put up a fuss. The cop who was sweet on her, Dan Espinoza, put up a fuss too. But it wasn’t enough to get her out of the undercover assignment. Everyone assured her that she wouldn’t really have to have sex with any clients. Assurances that came from a willful lack of interest in the details, she suspected. 

Ella Lopez, the other new cop assigned to the case, is more copacetic about it all. Not surprising. Not only is she from Detroit, but she worked as an escort to put herself through the training she needs to qualify for her dream job of forensic scientist.

“We need a male cop to go undercover with us,” points out Chloe when they have their first sit-down about the case. “We think the killer targets male escorts too.”

She is completely unsurprised that no male cops are coming forward to volunteer, even her protector, Dan. Apparently this kind of new-cop hazing only applies to women. 

“If we can’t get a male cop, maybe we can get a male escort to help us,” suggests Ella. “I know someone who could do it. He’s a little, um, eccentric. But I think he’d be right for it. He knows his way around self-defense. And he’s always up for an adventure.”

Chloe is dubious. The case is tricky enough without bringing civilians into it, never mind civilians who would look on the job as an “adventure.” 

“Plus, we need more of the people in the community to be eyes and ears for us, and this guy is influential,” Ella persists. “He’s been helping us set up a collectively owned business, so we don’t have to rely so much on pimps and the Internet.”

“A collectively owned business,” Chloe says skeptically.

“Yes, it’s called El Lay.”

Chloe snorts, but then turns serious. “The less I know about that, the better, Ella,” she cautions. She’s not sure what she thinks about Ella’s choice of pronoun. “Us” and “we” imply Ella considers herself more part of the sex work community than the police. “Solicitation is still technically illegal around here, you know.”

Ella looks disappointed, like she’d been hoping Chloe was made out of a more flexible ethical material. 

In the end, they have to go with Ella’s suggestion, because of the lockdown among the male cops. Which is how Ella and Chloe find themselves newly set up in their undercover apartment/incall place of business, interviewing “call me Lucifer, yes I _am_ the Devil” Morningstar. 

The first thing that makes Chloe uncomfortable is the rather prolonged kiss that Lucifer and Ella share when he comes in. She hadn’t realized they were lovers. Or maybe that’s just a sex workers’ equivalent of a secret handshake. She knows she has a lot to learn about the work, but she hopes she won’t have to engage in any such handshake equivalents.

She’s really not sure about this “I’m the Devil” thing either. But she supposes some escorts have a schtick to attract clients. 

Lucifer certainly looks the part of a male escort. He’s slim, tall, and dark, with carefully coifed black hair, and wearing an exquisitely tailored suit. He seems very open and friendly, as well. 

“So we’re all to be bait for the killer,” says Lucifer, after Ella and Chloe have explained the operation. “Do you know, every one of the victims was a good friend of mine.” A shadow crosses his face. “I look forward to helping bring them justice.”


	2. Chapter 2

Chloe starts regretting the whole thing sooner than she had anticipated. 

She’s eating a microwave dinner in the kitchen when she hears the apartment door open and Lucifer’s buttery English voice. Then he’s standing in the kitchen introducing his “very good friend Jane,” a middle-aged woman bearing some resemblance to Kathy Bates, to “my lovely housemate, Chloe.” 

Chloe hasn’t the slightest clue how an escort who’s been introduced as a housemate is supposed to greet another escort’s client, who’s been introduced as a friend. She babbles something awkward. Lucifer and his “friend” smile and chuckle, and then disappear into his room.

The noises start about ten minutes later.

Giggles. Moans. High-pitched shrieks followed by lower-pitched evil laughter. Shouts of “Yes, there” and “Hell’s gates.” Cries of “Oh Luci” and “ooh Jane” and “harder” and other less clearly articulated verbiage. Screams, sometimes simultaneous. Repeated thumping against the wall so loud that Chloe worries it might not withstand the abuse. 

Chloe tries moving to her room, but it’s louder in there, so she goes back out to the living room. Turning on the TV doesn’t drown the chaos. Chloe eventually puts on earphones and cranks up some thrash metal on her Walkman, because it’s the only music she owns that doesn’t have any quiet interludes.

Three hours later, Jane and Lucifer emerge. She’s dressed in most of the same clothing she entered with, but he’s wearing a blue silk robe that comes to mid-thigh, his hair is a wild, curly mess, and he’s barefoot. 

“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” Jane says to Chloe cheerfully.

Chloe lies through her teeth. 

Jane and Lucifer kiss at the door for several minutes before Chloe finally hears it close. She looks up, to see Lucifer standing there smiling at her, his robe open to reveal a muscular torso and...Chloe has never seen a bigger one of those, and he’s only half-hard. She covers her eyes. 

“Come now, Officer,” says Lucifer in a smirking tone. “Shyness about dangly bits isn’t compatible with your cover identity.” He does belt the robe, but the tent the cock makes in it isn’t any less distracting than the unimpeded view.

Chloe fumes. She’s learned that if a suspect tries to get your goat during an interrogation, you should turn the attention away from yourself by asking them questions. It’s worth a try.

“Speaking of undercover roles, don’t call me Officer. Has Jane been your client for long?” she asks.

“Client? No. As I told you, she’s a friend.”

“Friend,” repeats Chloe. “Who you just had sex with for three hours.”

“Yes, it _was_ a bit of a quickie, but she has a flight to catch.”

“Isn’t it a busman’s holiday, having friends like that?”

Lucifer shrugs. “I don’t do workdays and holidays. It’s all of a piece. I grant favors and people pay me back in various ways, some of them with cash, some with...other things. And since I appeal to the mischievous carnal urges of most people, I’m often granting...myself.” He spreads his arms and twirls. “The only difference with friends is that the favors have been exchanged in both directions, so now we’re spending time together because we like it.”

“That’s fascinating,” says Chloe. _In a thoroughly creepy way,_ she does not say.

“Happy to oblige you too, you know,” Lucifer goes on cheerfully. “Fancy a good fucking? You do look like you could use some...limbering up.” Lucifer raises his right eyebrow and eyes Chloe speculatively. “I think it would take a while to work you up to your first orgasm, but after that? Sky’s the limit.” 

“No, thank you, Lucifer,” says Chloe carefully. If it were anyone else she probably would have thrown a shoe or an elbow at him, but she knows Lucifer is doing the LAPD a favor and she needs to stay on his good side. She wonders if all male escorts have egos like this. 

“Some other time, then,” Lucifer says contentedly. 

At that moment, Ella comes in through the front door.

She’s wearing thick thigh-high socks, Mary Janes, and a cropped white polo shirt. A tail emerges from under the plaid miniskirt and there’s a cat-ear headband in her hair.

“Lovely cat girl look. Lucifer likes!”

“I’d rather be at the animal shelter working with real cats than getting fucked from behind with a tail up my ass, but that’s not what pays the bills or catches our killer,” says Ella matter-of-factly. 

“Oh, surely the tail up your ass isn’t _all_ bad,” says Lucifer, reaching for it. 

Ella twists out of reach. “Sorry, Luci, I am done for tonight. I don’t have the stamina for it that I had when I was in school. Time to get cleaned up and then I’m for bed.” She disappears into her room.

Chloe is unaccountably relieved.


	3. Chapter 3

“And then he asked if I wanted some for myself!” Chloe concludes. She slurps her strawberry shake noisily. 

“Wow. What a douche,” Dan replies, filling a taco shell. “He sounds completely wacko. Are you sure it’s a good idea to have him on the team?” 

“No, but it’s not as if you volunteered,” snaps Chloe, “or any of the other male cops.”

Dan looks chagrined. “Fair point. You know, some of us would jump at the chance to go undercover as an escort, except...”

“...except that you might have to encounter queer men,” Chloe finishes. “If only the killer stuck to women, you’d all be champing at the bit.” 

“Hey, not all of us.” Dan leans over to kiss Chloe. “Some of us have our hands full trying to satisfy the women we’ve already got.”

Chloe licks guacamole from the side of his mouth. They kiss some more.

“Do you really want to kiss me, given that I might have to have sex with a client as part of my cover identity?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t I? Actually it’s kind of hot.” 

“It’s hot thinking about me with another man?”

“Or woman,” Dan says.

“You mean, ‘especially woman,’” don’t you?”

“I admit it,” says Dan, with an embarrassed grin.

“Well, you’re more enlightened than I gave you credit for,” Chloe remarks. 

“Enlightened? I thought you’d left your slutty _Hot Tub High School_ days behind you,” he teases. 

“It’s not like the LAPD is letting me leave them behind,” she points out. “Hm. If you’re so hot at the idea of me with another man, maybe I _should_ fuck Lucifer. I’m sure he’d be happy to let you watch.” 

Dan spits horchata out of his mouth.


	4. Chapter 4

Chloe wishes she had her thrash metal right about now, but it would be rude when she is supposed to be having a conversation with her teammates.

But really, do they _have_ to be arguing about deep-throating techniques?

“Coming down on the cock from above is best,” says Ella. “You have more control over your position.”

“No, head tilted back is best,” says Lucifer. “Cock coming in sideways. Straight line from your mouth into your throat.” He leans back in his chair and starts demonstrating with the silverware.

“If you know the person with the cock, that can be fun. But if you don’t, it’s better to have more control,” Ella insists. 

“It’s just so delicious to submit that way,” says Lucifer in a low, hungry voice. “To lie back and be _taken_ like that. Mmm.” 

Ella laughs heartily. “I love you, Luci. You are, like, the most joyously depraved person I know.”

“Thank you!” Lucifer seems genuinely touched. He turns to Chloe. “I’m sorry, we have been leaving you out. Do you care to cast the deciding vote?”

“Deciding vote?”

“Deep-throating. Which way do you prefer?”

Chloe chokes on her tea and struggles to maintain composure. “I...haven’t done it often enough to have established a preference.” She doesn’t admit that she’s never done it. She is fine with regular blow jobs, but has never felt the urge to get other cavities of the digestive system involved. 

“Want to compare them both now?” Lucifer suggests. 

Ella guffaws. 

Chloe turns beet-red. “No, thank you. I want to talk about how we’re going to catch the killer. Remember, that’s why we’re doing this?” 

“All right. Maybe after that, then,” he says cheerily. 

Ella produces a metal tray of word and letter magnets.

“Fridge poetry, Ella?” Chloe asks. 

“No. I was playing around with an idea. Sometimes serial killers choose victims because their initials spell something. It didn’t seem relevant to this case at first, but when I realized some of the victims have multiple work names, that expanded the possibilities, and I think I’m onto something.”

“Tell me they’ve already spelled out what they want to say,” says Chloe.

“Not yet,” Ella says. She rearranges magnets.

F E A R T H E M I R A

“Fear the mira?”

“There are only a few words that start with M I R A,” Ella says. She drags in the relevant letters.

F E A R T H E M I R A C L E

“Ella,” says Chloe. “The next three letters...”

“Yes,” says Ella, wide-eyed. “C, L, E.”

Chloe’s cell phone beeps. She taps a few buttons, looks at the screen. “I have an appointment with a client,” she announces.


	5. Chapter 5

She should be grateful for the advice. She really should. But Lucifer and Ella and Dan are driving her crazy. 

“You don’t have to do it,” Ella says. “I can go instead.”

“No, Ella, if he’s the murderer, and your theory is right, he made an appointment with someone whose name begins with C for a reason. And he might know what I look like. And why should you take the risk for me? I will have backup.” 

“You know you don’t have to go through with whatever he wants to do, right?” says Dan, over the speaker phone. “The point is just to get a look at him, record his voice.” 

Whyyy did her boyfriend get assigned as her handler on this operation? 

“You can learn a lot from pillow talk, though,” says Lucifer.

“Not if you’re dead!” objects Dan. 

“Dan, is this about my safety or is it about your not wanting me to touch another guy’s dick? He only wants a hand job.”

“It’s about your safety, Chloe,” Dan insists. “Look, just make sure to mention out loud what you’re doing so the surveillance team will know what’s going on.”

“Fine. See you later.” Chloe cuts the connection.

Next, Lucifer wants her to demonstrate her technique. Chloe balks, then reaches for a banana on the breakfast table.

“Not on a banana,” objects Lucifer. “How am I supposed to advise you if I don’t know how it feels? Besides, I don’t like mushy bananas.”

“I’m not demonstrating it on your dick,” says Chloe. “Touching one new dick tonight is enough.”

Ella intervenes. “I can tell if you’re doing it right. Use my forearm.”

“That’s a reasonable substitute for my dick, but most men’s dicks aren’t that big,” objects Lucifer.

 _“I don’t need to be taught how to do a handjob!”_ shouts Chloe finally. “Just because I haven’t jumped into bed with Lucifer yet does not mean I have no sexual experience.” 

“Yet?” says Lucifer with a smile.

~~~

And then she’s at the hotel where she’s supposed to meet the client. She’s wearing heels she can scarcely walk in, a pistol is uncomfortably poking her in the small of her back, she’s ill-covered by a gauzy cape, and has a wire in her ear. 

Chloe gives the client a hand job (“so I’ll give you a HAND JOB now,” she makes sure to say loudly enough for the surveillance team to hear), which lasts all of five minutes. And after that, yes, he does want to talk. For the rest of the two-hour appointment. But only about his broken marriage and his high paying but boring job and hating life. He seems in awe of her, and the only time he touches her is to give her a parting kiss on the cheek.

Chloe is in a state of utter frustration and confusion by the time she returns to the apartment. She feels like a complete failure. She wishes more than anything that she could return to the home she shares with her mother — even though her mother drives her crazy. She doesn’t want anything to do with this case any more, or the charming-but-creepy Lucifer or over-enthusiastic Ella, or Dan who keeps pretending to have her back, even though he didn’t have the balls to go undercover himself. 

When she arrives back in the apartment, it’s empty. She kicks her stiletto heels into a corner and sits on a bar stool in the kitchen, in the dark, drinking a bottle of beer. 

“Why?” she mutters to herself. “Why, why, why?”

A few seconds later, a buttery voice breaks the silence. “Alone in the dark, Off- I mean, Chloe?” 

With a huge gasp, Chloe is off the bar stool in a defensive posture. 

The kitchen lights come on. Lucifer is standing behind her, looking mildly surprised, his hands raised. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Lucifer, where did you come from? Have you been here all this time?”

“Yes, I was in my room when you came in.”

“Really? I didn’t hear any screaming or banging on the wall,” Chloe snarks.

“I’m occasionally alone. After all, the manscaping has to be done sometime.”

“Why didn’t you say anything when I came in?”

“You desired to be alone,” Lucifer says simply. 

Chloe is surprised. Lucifer doesn’t seem like the type to read the needs of others like that. And then she slaps her hand against her head. Of course he can read people’s needs. He wouldn’t be a very good escort if he couldn’t.

Lucifer just keeps looking at her, his head slightly tilted, as she works her way through this thought process.

“Clearly, you didn’t catch the killer,” he says.

Chloe describes her evening, although she holds off on sharing the despair she’s feeling.

“A lot of clients are like that,” he says. “They mostly want someone to talk to. I’m always surprised when I spend time on — here, at how many hu— people are lonely.” An irritated expression momentarily crosses his face. “Would you like another beer?” he asks. 

A tiny bit of Chloe’s angst dribbles away. “Sure. Thank you, Lucifer.” 

Lucifer hands her a beer. “Shall we sit in the living room? Perhaps there’s something to watch via the infernal technology you call cable,” he says, and she follows him. He lowers his voice. “And when I say infernal, I mean it literally. It really was invented in Hell.”

Chloe laughs. “That explains a lot.” 

But they don’t bother turning on the TV. They sit in silence, side by side on the couch, drinking their beers. Chloe finds herself relaxing bit by bit. After a few minutes Lucifer puts his arm around her shoulder and draws her against him. Chloe tenses up for a few seconds, but, surprisingly, she feels no need to protest. She lays her head on his firm chest, hears his heart beating. 

Some time later, he stirs, looks down into her face, and fixes her with a steady gaze and a smile. 

“Chloe, what do you truly desire?” he asks. 

She holds his gaze for a moment and then shuts her eyes. He’s so _intense._ She can’t handle intense right now. “I think I’ve had enough alcohol for one night,” she mumbles. “Is there any sparkling water?”

There’s a short silence, and then Lucifer makes a scoffing sound, as if he’s encountered something impossible to believe. “Yes, just sit tight, I’ll get you some.”

“Are you laughing at me being such a lightweight?” Chloe says, laying her head against the back of the couch as Lucifer gets up. 

“No, it’s something else entirely. Never mind.”

When he comes back, Chloe is glad he lets her put her head on his shoulder again. She drinks the water and idly watches as Lucifer flips channels on the TV. Her eyes gradually close. 

And that’s where she is when Ella bursts in. 

“There’s been another Escort Killer murder,” Ella announces gravely. “His name was Colin.”


	6. Chapter 6

He was killed in a room of a high-class hotel, the managers of which are extremely interested in keeping its name out of the press in connection with the murders. So much so, that they are willing to hand over a few more guest details than strictly required of them outside of a warrant.

Unfortunately, the room was reserved in Colin’s name, not that of his client. Apparently he had used the hotel frequently to offer his services — another thing the managers didn’t want getting out.

Colin worked for himself. The only data on his computer pertaining to the client, once it was cracked by the computer forensics team, was the number 333, a date and time, and the name of the hotel. He had referred to other clients by number too. The one interesting clue was that client 333 seemed to be a repeat client. The number appeared in his appointment file one other time, a week ago.

Back in the apartment, the two undercover-as-escorts and the actual escort chew over the information they’ve learned. 

“So, assuming this is the same killer, they’re casing at least some victims before killing them,” suggests Ella. “And assuming the code phrase thing is right, their next intended victim’s name will probably start with L. Lucifer, have you had any new clients in the past few weeks?”

Lucifer laughs. “A dozen or so.” 

Chloe clamps down on her face so as not to gawp. “Do you have their names?”

“I’m afraid not,” says Lucifer. “Some of the ways I work are rather...informal.”

“So you would have no way of identifying them?”

“I didn’t say that,” Lucifer corrects. “I never forget the faces of the people I fuck. Or any other parts of them.” His eyes go a little unfocused and dreamy. 

“You have eidetic memory?” Ella asks, while Chloe tries to get her eyeballs to stop spinning.

“Where fucking is concerned, yes. Actually, where any deal-making is concerned.” 

“So you could describe your clients,” Chloe prompts. “That might help us narrow down some suspects.” 

Lucifer shakes his head. “No can do. A deal with the Devil is a private matter.” 

“Lucifer!” Chloe cries, more loudly than she intended. “We’re trying to catch someone who’s murdered twelve people!” 

Lucifer looks very uncomfortable, but he’s adamant. 

“Could you get in touch with any of them again?” asks Ella. 

“I’m certain I could track them downd, given time. I know a first class hunter.”

 _Hunter?_ wonders Chloe.

“Then could you track them down and ask them if they’re willing to help?” Ella continues.

Lucifer beams. “Yes, I can do that!”

“But that might tip off the killer,” warns Chloe. 

“Oh, damn,” says Ella. “You’re right. Well, look, Lucifer. From now on, we need to know of any engagements you make with people you don’t know well. Even if it’s not as spontaneous as how you usually do things. Your life is in danger, after all.”

“No it’s not,” says Lucifer cheerfully. “I’m immortal.” 

Ella and Chloe exchange worried glances. 

“OK, then because...we want to catch the killer because they’ve killed people you care about,” Ella says.

“Fair enough,” he says, a little grudgingly. Then his face turns dark and angry. “I can’t believe Colin’s dead. Dead, and I will never see him again. Never have another of his sweet kisses...” He abruptly gets up and stalks into his room, slamming the door.

Ella’s phone rings. She listens, then disconnects. “They’ve made a mold of the murder weapon finally. A plainclothes cop is going to drop it off.”

~~~

Ella and Chloe unwrap the package and look at the fake knife.

“Creepy,” says Chloe. “Like a giant tiger claw.”

“I think this is a karambit,” says Ella. “They usually have a finger loop on the handle. But of course we can’t assume that from the stab wounds.” 

Lucifer reappears. His eyes look puffy and the usual cheer is absent from his face. His gaze fastens on the knife, then he bares his teeth in a truly alarming snarl. _It’s like he’s a completely different person,_ thinks Chloe. 

“This is the murder weapon?” he says, and his voice has changed too. It’s tight. Dangerous. He snatches up the knife. “I have to show this to someone.”

Before Chloe and Ella can react, he’s out the door.

As the sound of the slamming door still reverberates through the apartment, Ella and Chloe stare at each other. “What got into him?” Ella says. “I’ve seen him angry a few times but never like that. He must know something important!” 

“Whatever it was, I wish he’d shared it with us.”

Ella broods for a bit, her chin on her hand, and then pops up off the bar stool. “Well, there’s no sense in speculating now. I’m going to make a latte, do you want one?”

“God, yes,” says Chloe.

They sit in the living room with their creamy drinks and Ella puts on a DVD of _The Blue Planet._ They relax to the dulcet narration of David Attenborough.

“Say, you were looking pretty chummy with Lucifer last night,” says Ella. “Did you finally fuck him?”

Chloe spits a mouthful of latte. “Ella! No!”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Ella says. “I keep getting my subcultures crossed.”

“It’s all right,” says Chloe. “No, I was just upset last night after getting so worked up over my appointment with the client. I think Lucifer could tell I wanted a little comfort. But that’s all it was.”

“Oh yeah, he is good at that,” says Ella. It’s like he can read people’s minds or something. At least in terms of knowing what they want, sometimes before they even know it themselves. Did you know, he is the reason I went into forensics?”

“Really?”

“One day we were hanging around and he suddenly looked at me with that Mysterious Face.“ Ella lowers her head, raises her eyebrows, and wiggles her fingers. “And he said, ‘Ella, what do you truly desire?’ And I suddenly knew that what I wanted most was to do science and help make the world a more just place. And guess what was right up my alley!”

“That’s really wonderful,” says Chloe. 

“I’ve never found out for sure, but I think he even pulled some strings for me, to help me get into the training program,” Ella goes on. “Otherwise, I’m pretty sure they’d have looked at my school records and tossed my application into the circular bucket.”

“Wow,” says Chloe. “Were you involved with him at the time?”

“Involved? Like, in a romantic relationship? No, definitely not! I don’t feel romantic about him at all. He isn’t pathetic enough! My taste in men is horrible. It’s part of the reason I decided to do sex work. I figured if I were fucking people for money, I wouldn’t be tempted to rescue them.”

Chloe laughs. “A unique solution to the problem.”

“Oh, no it isn’t,” Ella says.

“So you and he didn’t have a physical relationship but he was still helpful to you,” says Chloe.

“Oh, we do have a _physical_ relationship. We used to fuck a lot before I got so busy with school, and it’s been great to reconnect that way this week. We don’t have a romantic relationship, though. Just ‘friends with benefits’. I think all his friendships come with benefits, actually.”

Chloe is uncomfortable. She didn’t realize Lucifer and Ella had been fucking under her nose. “I think I’m the one getting my subcultures crossed now.” 

“Maybe you just haven’t met anyone like Lucifer.” 

“That’s _very_ true.” 

“Anyway, that’s why I asked the way I did. Everybody seems to want him, and he seems to want everybody back. So I assumed. Ass-you-me’d.”

“I guess that explains why he keeps suggesting that we have sex, the same way people ask ‘would you like more peas?’”

Ella laughs. “Exactly. It must be quite a puzzle to him that you keep refusing! I don’t think he gets refused very often.” 

“Glad to do what I can to keep _one_ male ego in check,” says Chloe.

And, speak of the Devil…the door is thrown open so hard it bangs loudly against the wall. Lucifer storms in. Accompanying him is a dark-skinned woman with a storm of black hair, wearing a leather tank and jeans. They’re arguing loudly.

“I’m telling you, I’ve had my knife the whole time,” the dark-haired woman snaps. “It never leaves my person, unless I’m throwing it at someone! Which I’ve only done a few times in the past few weeks. And none of them were the murder victims.”

“Then, Mazikeen, explain how a knife that only you could have brought to e— here ends up being the weapon that killed twelve of my friends.”

“There’s a very simple explanation for that, Lucifer.”

“Do enlighten me!”

The woman — Mazikeen — looks archly at Ella and Chloe.

“I guess we have people to do and places to see,” says Ella, getting up and going to her room.

Chloe goes to her own room and shuts the door. But Lucifer and the woman Mazikeen are yelling, and she can hear everything that they say. 

“I’m not the only one who has a knife like that,” she says when Chloe has closed the door to her room. “As you _well_ know.”

“You’re the only one _here,_ though.”

“But what if I’m not, Lucifer?”

There’s a profound silence for about thirty seconds.

“You don’t know that I’m the only one, do you?” Mazikeen continues. “You’re not in charge down there any more. Who knows what might be happening?”

“My brother is supposed to be running things.”

“Remind me again how much you trust your brother?” Mazikeen asks.

Another silence. Ten seconds this time. 

“Look, Lucifer. If you want me to find out, I can.”

Ten seconds.

“Yes, I know you hate being in my debt,” she goes on. “But presumably you hate more that your friends are getting killed. And you know if I’m right, things are only going to get worse.”

“All right, Maze,” says Lucifer in an angry, defeated voice.

“I’ll let you know once I find out anything.”

The apartment door slams again.

Chloe hears a cabinet in the kitchen being opened, and the clink of bottles and glassware. The door to Lucifer’s bedroom slams.

And then Chloe feels like she’s caught in a time warp. Because from Lucifer’s room she hears the opening of _Hot Tub High School,_ her first (and last, if she has anything to say about it, thank you very much, Mom) claim to movie stardom. 

She leaves the apartment in a hurry. She does not want to deal with Lucifer commenting about her nude scene in the movie. She’s only known the guy a few days, but she can already imagine it.


	7. Chapter 7

Several hours later, Chloe tries to skulk quietly back into the apartment, but from the corridor, she hears Lucifer’s and Ella’s raised voices. She opens the front door a crack and sees them in the kitchen. 

“Lucifer, you have to get Maze to talk to the team if she has information about the murder weapon or the kinds of people who have one,” says Ella. 

Lucifer’s face is stormy. “That conversation was supposed to have been private,” he snaps.

“It’s not my fault this apartment has paper walls,” retorts Ella. “And forgive me for wanting to catch the killer. Some of the victims were _my_ friends too, you know.”

Lucifer makes a sound, a cross between a scoffing laugh and a sob. Chloe can’t tell which is more horrifying, the laugh, which makes her want to slap him, or the sob, which makes her want to put him to bed with a teddy bear and a hot chocolate. Today she is seeing many new sides of Lucifer, it seems.

She almost doesn’t hear what he says next.

“It’s my fault,” he whispers. “All I wanted was a bloody vacation. I didn’t want people to _die_ because of me.” 

“It’s not your fault, Luci,” insists Ella, “but _please_ tell us _everything_ you know.” 

“If I did, you wouldn’t believe me,” Lucifer says with finality.

Ella throws up her hands and goes into her room. Then Chloe hears her sobbing. 

Chloe gives up on skulking and enters the apartment.

Lucifer is sitting at the kitchen island, his face in shadow. He doesn’t even look up. 

Chloe crosses the kitchen and knocks on Ella’s door. “Ella? It’s Chloe. Are you all right?”

“Please leave me alone,” is the reply through the door.

Chloe returns to the kitchen. She isn’t sure why she feels like talking to Lucifer. But maybe sympathy will get him to open up in a way that chiding didn’t.

“I guess it’s my turn to be the offerer of beer. And a shoulder, if you want it,” Chloe says to him.

Lucifer looks up at her then. His eyes are huge and brimming with tears, and she’s moved. She hadn’t pegged him for a sensitive type. 

After a moment a smile breaks onto his face.

“The star of _Hot Tub High School_ offers me beer and sympathy. Who am I to refuse?”

Chloe puts her head in her hands. “Oh please no, Lucifer. I’m not proud of that role.”

“You should be,” he says with finality. “There’s not enough lightheartedness in this world. Especially _sexy_ lightheartedness.” 

“If I get you the beer, will you change the subject?” she begs.

His face turns serious. 

“All right. Deal,” he says, and offers her his hand. 

Chloe laughs and shakes his hand, but then he won’t let go. He holds her hand in both of his and turns it back and forth as if he’s reading her palm. 

His hands are warm and his touch gentle. 

“Can’t fulfill my end of the bargain if you keep holding my hand,” Chloe protests. “My arm’s not long enough to reach the fridge from here.”

Without releasing her hand, Lucifer produces a flask from his jacket pocket. “Skip the beer. Let’s just go straight for the hard stuff,” he says. He unscrews the cap with his teeth and takes a swig, then offers it to Chloe.

Chloe takes a sip, tastes peat and chili. “Tastes like Talisker,” she says.

Lucifer’s mouth makes an ‘O’. “Chloe Decker. You know your single-malts!”

Chloe chuckles. “My father started teaching them to me when I was rather younger than twenty-one. The one exception to his law-abiding nature.”

She takes one more sip, savoring it, and hands him back the flask. He finally disengages his hand from hers to recap it and put it away. 

“Beer now?” Chloe says. “I have to keep up my end of the bargain, after all.”

Lucifer chuckles. “Why not?”

Chloe gets a couple of beers and they sit on the couch, channel-surfing. They settle on an episode of _The Price Is Right._ Lucifer guesses all of the prices correctly, leaving Chloe in the dust. 

“You know your _stuff,”_ Chloe teases.

“All part of knowing what people desire,” he says. 

“Oh yes, Ella told me about that. About you helping her realize she wanted to go into forensics.” “But it doesn’t work on you,” Lucifer says. “I wonder why not?”

“It doesn’t work on me? You did all right yesterday, when I was upset about my client.” 

“I figured out what you wanted in the moment, but when I asked you what you truly desire, you asked for sparkling water. Surely you have deeper desires than that.”

“I want to catch this killer,” says Chloe. 

“And?”

“I want to help people. To bring more justice into the world. Like my dad.”

“Like me,” says Lucifer, looking genuinely pleased. 

“Like you? How?”

“Well, more along the lines of what I used to do. Punishing evildoers.”

“Oh, this is your Devil thing, isn’t it?”

“It’s not a ‘thing.’ I’m the Devil.” 

“Do you mean that you do a roleplay where—“

“Ugh, no. Much too close to home. Well, what used to be home. I mean, what I spent millennia doing. It never felt like home.”

Chloe tries to change the subect again. “What feels like home to you?”

Lucifer reflects for a moment. “Playing the piano.”

“I didn’t know you played the piano!”

“The Tower Bar, second Thursday of the month.”

Chloe whistles. “If I win the lottery, I’ll come see you there sometime. What else feels like home?” 

“Sharing a good single malt with a fellow connoisseur,” Lucifer says with a smile. 

Chloe suddenly knows what’s coming next.

“Giving someone a really good orgasm,” he pursues.

Oh, he _had_ to go there. She opens her mouth to say something snarky, but he’s continuing. 

“Or sharing a sweet kiss.” His eyes are bright as he looks at her. 

And suddenly his mouth looks very inviting.

Is it the alcohol? Chloe asks herself. No, she’s not usually drunk after two servings. “Are you offering?”

“I am,” he says seriously.

“And you won’t try to push it farther than that?”

“Chloe, I am a _professional._ It’s my job to touch people only in ways they want.”

“Of course. That was thoughtless of me.”

“Entirely understandable, this culture being what it is,” he demurs. 

And then he just goes still, his face inches from hers.

So she kisses him. 

A soft sigh comes out of him, and he moves his lips against hers, but remains still and doesn’t try to deepen the kiss. 

Eventually she does, putting her hand in his hair and touching his lips with the tip of her tongue. He meets her escalation, opening his mouth slightly, and closing his eyes. 

When their tongues touch, arousal floods through Chloe. She gasps. He gasps. She presses her mouth on his hard for a moment, then breaks away, panting. 

“Um. Sorry. Too much...I didn’t mean…” she babbles.

Lucifer’s holding completely still again, although something about his expression...well. She can tell he felt something intense, too. 

His face relaxes into a cat-who-got-the-cream smile. 

“Lovely. Thank you for that moment of feeling at home, Chloe.” 

_That’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me,_ Chloe thinks, but she’s afraid to say it out loud. 

Both of their phones beep at once, and they both startle. 

“I’m being asked if I can...this is weird. Accompany another woman to a booking...in an _hour?”_ Chloe says. “It’s late!” She turns to Lucifer. “Did you get a meeting request too?”

“Yes,” he says tersely.

Ella emerges from her room, her phone in her hand, looking angry. She sees Lucifer and Chloe looking at their phones. 

“All three of us?” she says. 

“I have to go to Bronson Canyon, of all places, so I’d better hop to it,” says Lucifer.

The door slams. Lucifer is gone.

“Damn that man!” Chloe fumes. “We’re supposed to contact the surveillance team before we meet clients!” She phones Lucifer, but his mobile goes straight to voicemail. 

“At least we can tell the team about our appointments,” says Ella. “Where is yours?”

“Marina Del Rey, but it doesn’t say where.” Chloe shows her the message.

“Oh! That’s my appointment, too,” says Ella. “Sometimes a client requests a specific escort, and one or more additional people to accompany them. I put you down as one of my extras.”

Chloe vaguely remembers Ella explaining this before, back when it all seemed very...theoretical.

“Would you mind working with me?” Ella goes on. “The killer hasn’t booked multiple people before, right?”

“Not as far as we know.”

“So this—“ Ella squints at the message. “—this Mr Angel is not likely to be the killer. So we don’t have to worry. But I should keep the appointment, it’s part of my cover. You don’t have to come with me, but it would be less of a hassle than finding someone else.”

Chloe isn’t so sure they shouldn’t worry. “I still want to involve the surveillance team.”

“All right,” says Ella. Then she gives Chloe a speculative look. “I probably should have asked this before, but...what are your feelings about women?”

“What do you mean?”

Ella’s eyes widen in surprise. “When a client books two women together, they usually want—“

Chloe slaps her palm against her forehead. “Oh. Of course. Um. I’m fine! I don’t have a lot of experience, but…some.”

“Oh, good,” says Ella. “I’m fine too. I mean, more than fine, with you, actually.” Then a worry line appears on her forehead. “Sorry if that’s TMI!”

Chloe is flustered. She laughs. To her chagrin there’s a slightly maniacal edge to it. “No! Gosh, I’m, um, flattered! I mean, me too. I mean, why not?” 

She wants to slap herself for how dorky she sounds. But kissing Lucifer and having Ella hint she’s hot, all in one day? It’s daunting. “And the surveillance team will be fine too, I’m sure.”

Ella laughs and gives her a quick kiss on the mouth. 

Her lips tingling, Chloe phones to set up the surveillance. 

“Very funny, Dan. No, we’re not going to stop at the van to pick up video cameras,” she snaps. “Sorry, the two of you will just have to find your own porn videos after this is over. Or you can suck each other off, or something.”

She disconnects and groans.

Ella grins. “That’s rather more explicit than I usually hear out of you.”

“This whole assignment is rather more explicit than I was hoping my work life would be after I quit the movie business.”

“It’s more explicit than I’ve been used to since I quit the escort business,” says Ella, “but I’m finding that I rather like that.”

“May we both get what we ‘most desire’ after this assignment is over,” says Chloe, imitating Lucifer’s accent. 

Ella laughs again.


	8. Chapter 8

“All right, Maze,” says Lucifer, striding into the Bat Cave at Bronson Canyon. “Why the drama?”

Then he stops dead.

Maze is standing in the middle of the tunnel. She’s holding the collar of a leather jacket. Inside the leather jacket dangles the body of…well, it looks like a man.

Maze looks very dangerous and very, very angry.

“I found him, Lucifer,” she says. “And his knife.

“All right, Maze. You may say it,” grumbles Lucifer.

“I. Told. You. So.” It doesn’t sound like she’s satisfied, though. “He’s obviously working with someone, but I can’t get him to talk.” She punches the man’s face. He groans and spits blood from his mouth.

“What do you mean, you can’t get him to talk?” Lucifer demands. “You were the chief torturer in Hell. Are you losing your abilities?”

“I don’t think so, Lucifer. I don’t have access to all of my tools, but—” She bares her fangs. “That’s never stopped me from getting a confession before. Something else is going on.”

“Let’s take him somewhere a little more private, and see how he stands up to his master’s questioning.”

They move off down the hill, dragging the whimpering demon with them.

Hidden in some scrub, they prop the demon against a vertical slab of rock. He slumps there, his head lolling on his chest, his tongue hanging out. Only barely conscious.

“Open your eyes, demon,” Lucifer orders.

The demon’s head keeps bobbing on his chest, and he moans, but he doesn’t obey. So Maze hauls him upright and pries his eyelids open with her sharp fingernails.

He tries to look away from Lucifer. “No…can’t…” he rasps.

Lucifer grabs his shoulders and shakes him. Maze removes her hands from the demon’s face and his eyes droop closed again.

“Don’t do that, Lucifer. He’s very fragile right now. I know how to keep him conscious, you don’t.”

“I bow to your expertise. I need him to answer some questions.”

She once again props the demon’s head up and pries his eyes open. This time Lucifer catches his gaze, and locks it.

“What is your name?” he demands in a raspy, flame-scarred voice. He lets his eyes flash red to remind the demon of who he is. 

The demon shakes his head. He doesn’t want to answer that question.

Lucifer repeats the question, and this time an echo of his voice resonates against the surrounding rock. _“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”_

“Is-Issakar.”

“Issakar,” says Lucifer. Having the name means binding the demon to his control. _“Acknowledge me as your king.”_

Issakar struggles in Maze’s grasp. “Master,” he whines. “You are my King.”

“That’s right, Issakar,” Lucifer says. His voice is gentler now, appealing to the demon’s instincts for loyalty and servitude. “Now, answer me. What brings you to Earth?” 

Issakar squirms as if he’s in pain, but doesn’t answer.

“Try rephrasing the question, Lucifer,” Maze instructs him. 

“Why are you on Earth?”

“Afraid. Required to…to follow.”

“That makes no sense,” mumbles Lucifer. He decides to try simpler questions. “Did you kill people while you were here?”

Issakar writhes, grovels. “Yes, my King.”

“How many people did you kill?”

Issakar doesn’t answer.

“Issakar,” Maze cuts in. “How many people did you kill, or help to kill?”

The answer seems to cause Issakar a great deal of pain. “Twelve.” 

“How many others were working with you?” asks Lucifer.

“None,” says Issakar, but he grimaces as he says it, as if he knows it’s not the right answer.

 _“You’re lying,”_ thunders Lucifer. Although his sense for lies tells him Issakar believes it’s the truth. 

Issakar cries out. Spits blood. But still doesn’t answer. 

“Issakar,” Maze says, “Were you working for another?”

“Yes,” he admits.

Maze runs her fingers through his hair, as if soothing him. They come away bloody. She licks them clean, making obscene smacking sounds.

Lucifer takes over the questioning again. _“Who are you working for?”_

Issakar won’t answer. 

“Your king demands that you answer. Who are you working for?”

Issakar writhes as if his bones are made of jelly, and does not speak.

 _“Do you fear your king?”_ Lucifer booms.

Issakar has gone still now. But his head nods minutely.

_“Who are you working for?”_

Issakar slumps into unconsciousness.

Maze growls angrily. “Dammit. I can only revive him with fresh water and I ran out. I’ll be back.” She stomps off into the darkness.

Lucifer sits in the copse with his hand on the shoulder of his minion. He has never had this much trouble getting a demon to talk. He has never had this much trouble getting anyone to talk, he realizes. 

Who or what has such a hold on this demon? This demon who is supposed to be his to command?

A possibility starts to form, deep in the shadows of his mind. And he avoids looking at it. 

Maze returns with a canteen. She pours some water into Issakar’s mouth and over his head. He coughs, chokes, spits, revives. He hangs his head dully, and then something takes hold of him, and he grows rigid. His eyes open and fix on Lucifer’s, which are blazing red. 

“Master,” he croaks. “Have mercy.”

Lucifer is completely without words for several seconds.

“Have mercy,” he finally says, mockingly. “On my servant, sworn to obey me, who came to Earth without an invitation. Who killed twelve humans expressly against Infernal and Celestial Laws. Who killed humans _that were my friends._ My servant asks for mercy. What mercy would you have from me?”

“My King,” Issakar says. “End me. I beg you. But first, I would ask you a question.”

“A question! Now he wants to ask me a question!” cries Lucifer with disbelief. “Very well, Issakar, I haven’t decided whether I will grant you the mercy you seek, but you may ask me a question.”

“My King…what is a friend?”

Lucifer jumps to his feet and looms over the broken demon, his hands balled into fists. 

Then he leaves the copse, stumbling noisily down the rocky slope until he can no longer see his minions.

He covers his face with his hands. He finds himself sobbing. The last time that happened, the continents...but no. Tears came to his eyes earlier today, over the death of Colin, his sweet _friend_ …it was the time _before_ that, that the continents weren’t in their current configuration. 

And he doesn’t know how to answer the question. Not in any way the demon will understand. 

He didn’t create Hell, but he had a lot of say in its workings once he became its ruler. There is no friendship there. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. He has only begun to understand the concept in these last few years, on Earth. Indeed, he has come to cherish it.

Lucifer’s cell phone beeps. Automatically he pulls it out of his pocket to look at it.

The message is from Chloe. 

WHY ARE U IN MARINA DEL REY NOT BRONSON 

He can’t avoid the possibility any more. 

He knows.


	9. Chapter 9

Ella and Chloe collect the key from the front desk and find their way to the hotel room. No one is there. The only furnishings are a king bed in the middle of the room, facing a full-length mirror of the same width, and a chest, on which are laid out several sex toys. 

“So now we wait for the client to show up?” Chloe says, partly for her own curiosity, and partly to alert the surveillance team, via her wire, of what’s happening.

Ella suddenly draws her into an embrace and nuzzles into her hair.

“Come to the bathroom with me. I need to make a lingerie adjustment,” she says. Then she giggles. Ella is a giggly woman in general, but this giggle is entirely different from her usual one. It’s high-pitched and childish.

Chloe fake-giggles too. They step into the bathroom.

Ella raps on the mirror, producing a dull thudding sound.

“This is a normal mirror. But the one in the bedroom is almost certainly a two-way mirror,” Ella whispers to Chloe and the wire. “Like the interrogation room at the precinct. The client is on the other side. The client is likely just going to watch and never enter the room.” 

“Should we go through with this, then?” asks Chloe. “There’s no point if we can’t see who the client is.”

“We don’t have to go through with it, but I know how we might be able to get a look at the client. We have to put on a bit of a show first, though. Is that OK?”

Chloe agrees, and Ella explains her idea.

Ella grabs Chloe by the shoulders and walks her backward into the bedroom, kissing her with lips that are soft and delicious.

_“Welcome, ladies.”_

The voice seems to come from inside the room. Chloe jumps and looks around, but sees no one. Ella seems to know the score. She titters, wraps a coil of her hair around a finger, and puts on a coy smile, glancing at the mirror.

“Hello, Mr Angel,” she says. “I’m Ella. I’ve brought Chloe with me. How can we please you this evening?”

 _“Go on with what you were doing,”_ says the voice. It’s dark and laconic, a hint of a Southern accent in the vowels. _“I’ll let you know if I have any suggestions.”_

Something about the voice makes Chloe shiver. But she doesn’t know how to communicate that to Ella under the circumstances.

Ella brings her to the foot of the bed, directly in front of the two-way mirror. 

“I can’t wait to get my hands on those gorgeous titties,” Ella says. She starts taking Chloe’s camisole off. She puts her hands on Chloe’s breasts over her suggestion of a bra, and squeezes gently. 

_“Take her tits out,”_ demands Mr Angel. His voice sounds...Chloe can’t decide if it’s bored, angry, or both.

Ella does as suggested and cups Chloe’s bare breasts in her hands. “You are beautiful,” she says to Chloe, with a small, private smile.

 _“Make her nipples hard,”_ drawls their client’s voice.

Ella guides Chloe’s hand to her own nipples. Chloe realizes Ella’s trying to minimize the invasiveness of the performance for her. 

“I’m OK,” Chloe mouths. Out loud she says “Please, Ella...lick them.”

Ella licks one nipple, her mouth angled slightly so the nipple and tongue are visible to whoever’s behind the mirror. She pinches the other nipple, until both are erect. She turns Chloe to face the mirror. 

_“Very nice tits,”_ says Mr Angel. _“Now I want to see yours.”_

Ella begins to direct Chloe what to do, but Chloe is already ahead of her. Focusing on Ella’s compact body helps her separate from the weirdness of it all. Ella’s nipples spring to attention in Chloe’s mouth. They taste delicious. 

“Are you from around here, Mr Angel?” Ella asks casually, in between making pretty little moans and sighs. “We’re glad you asked for us. We girls love to put on a show, you know.”

 _“I’m from someplace very far from here,”_ replies Mr Angel. _“But I know one of your...colleagues, I believe. A man who calls himself Lucifer. Do you know him?”_

Ella and Chloe exchange a glance. 

“He’s a friend of mine,” says Ella. “I think Chloe here is too new in town to know him. Hm?”

“Don’t know him,” Chloe affirms. 

Chloe notices that Ella doesn’t ask how Mr Angel knows Lucifer. It’s probably not the sort of thing you ask a client. Especially one hidden behind glass. 

Mr Angel is silent now. Ella starts implementing her plan. She takes the rest of her and Chloe’s clothes off, then picks up a harness and dildo from the chest.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Ella says to Chloe, as she straps on the harness. 

Ella shoves Chloe. She falls toward the mirror, catching herself with her hands. Ella presses at the small of her back so that her whole torso is plastered against the mirror.

Trying to ignore the sensation of the dildo slipping between her thighs, Chloe brings her hands closer together and leans her forehead against them. Her eyes shielded from the light in the room, she peers through the glass. 

She can just barely see into the darkened room behind the mirror. She sees an empty wingback chair. A small table with a glass half full of liquid and a box of Kleenex. 

A door opens at the far end of the room. Chloe sees a figure pass through it quickly, silhouetted against the brighter light of the hallway. Then the door slams.

“Damn!” she says. She twists out of Ella’s grip and stumbles for the door, forgetting that she’s naked. “He caught on! He ran!” 

Ella crowds into the hallway behind her. A pair of middle-aged women coming down the hall get an eyeful of the two naked women in stilettos, one wearing a strap-on. They look intrigued.

“Ladies!” Chloe hails them. “LAPD — I’m sorry, I don’t have my badge on me at the moment — did you see a man run down the hall that way?”

The two women exchange glances. 

“Yes, a man wearing a tweed jacket went into the fire stairs.”

“Did you get that?” says Chloe, addressing the surveillance team.


	10. Chapter 10

A short while later, Ella and Chloe are once again street-legal and debriefing inside the surveillance van. No one has seen the man in the tweed jacket. 

“Why did you break cover by telling those women you are LAPD, Chloe?” chides Dan. “Did you have any evidence that this was the killer, and not a random guy who likes to pay a lot to look at a couple of sluts fucking each other?”

Chloe slaps him. He rocks back, with a shocked look on his face, that gradually morphs into chagrin. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have put it that way. I’m just frustrated.”

Chloe raises her hand in a threatening manner again.

“All right, all right, Uncle!” he says, cringing back. “Yes, you have a lot more reason to be frustrated than I do.”

“Do you remember what the guy looked like, Chloe?” Ella says to change the subject.

“Tall, slender, maybe slightly stooped? But the light was wrong for me to make out any details. I didn’t even notice the tweed jacket until the corridor ladies said something. In my defense, there was _rather a lot going on_ at that moment.” 

Dan’s face at that moment would have confounded the top players at the World Series of Poker.

“Looks like we’ve gotten as much as we can out of this,” he says. “We’ll drive the two of you back to the apartment.”

“No, Dan,” says Chloe. “I need some time to chill. I’m going to walk around the hotel grounds for a bit and then I’ll get a taxi home. Just give me my cross-trainers and lend me your hoodie. I don’t want to go for a walk in stilettos wearing nothing but a fuck-me dress.”

Ella decides to ride back in the van. “Be safe, ‘K?” is all she says.

Five minutes later, Chloe has reached the marina and begins to walk along it. It’s chilly, and she pulls the hood over her head, hunching into the jacket’s fleecy warmth. There are a few other people on the path in twos and threes, but it’s not crowded. The creaking of the boats in the water is a soothing sound, and she begins to remember that something called calm and normality exists, and to feel like she might get within shouting distance of it sometime in the next half century. 

She sees someone walking in the opposite direction on a parallel path. She stops short. 

_Is that — Lucifer?_

She starts to call out to him, but then she remembers that Lucifer said he was going to Bronson Canyon, thirty miles away.

She looks back at the man. He’s wearing jeans and a cardigan. Which makes it even weirder that she thought he was Lucifer, since she hasn’t seen Lucifer wear either of those garments. 

_Either it’s Lucifer or he has a twin,_ she thinks. Then she’s angry all over again. Nothing about today is making any sense. She thinks about chasing him. But no. Chasing people in the dark seems like a bad idea right now. 

She pulls out her mobile phone and brings up Lucifer’s number. She hits Call, but then immediately hits End. She doesn’t want to hear his voice, doesn’t want to have to explain out loud what’s happening in her head.

She pulls up messaging instead and laboriously taps out a text. 

WHY ARE U IN MARINA DEL REY NOT BRONSON, she sends.

Then she wonders why she bothered. 

She hears seals barking in the distance and stops to listen to them.

Her phone rings. It’s Lucifer.

She looks at the man still heading away from her, almost out of sight now. It doesn’t look like he’s using a phone.

She answers.

“Chloe?” Lucifer’s voice is harsh.

“Yes, sorry I bothered you, false alarm. It’s just that I saw —“

“Chloe, listen very carefully,” Lucifer interrupts. “You saw someone who looks like me? Where are you?”

“Burton Chace Park.”

“Is he with you now?”

“No, I’m trying to tell you, I just —“

“Chloe, did you approach him? Speak to him? Has he seen you?”

 _“No, Lucifer,_ stop interrupting me!”

“Chloe, I’m sorry. This is very important. Tell me _exactly_ where you are.”

She describes the place to him. 

“I’m coming to get you. I’ll be there _very soon._ Stay _right_ there.”

“What? But aren’t you in Bronson?”

But Lucifer has already disconnected. 

Chloe sits down on a bench. 

Suddenly she’s surrounded by a fierce wind. She gasps. Her vision goes blurry. Then her face is crushed against something soft. For a moment, she’s terrified she’s being smothered, but then she realizes she can breathe just fine. 

A strange sense of safety fills her. Her mind dimly protests that it makes no sense, feeling safe in the midst of a freak whirlwind…and then she wonders if she’s dying, because she’s heard that sometimes you relax and let go at the end. 

And then she can no longer think at all. She’s only aware of being lifted, enveloped, carried. Her eyes are closed, but she can see light through the lids, impossibly bright light.

When she opens her eyes, she’s standing in the apartment, in the living room, and Lucifer is standing there with her. There’s a weird white shape behind his upper back for a moment, and then it’s gone.

Chloe’s legs give out from under her, and she sinks down onto the couch. 

“What?” she says. “Lucifer, have you been here this whole time? Something really weird happened to me. I wonder if I’m having a stroke.”

“Raise your arms over your head,” says Lucifer. 

Chloe does this without difficulty, but she’s struck by the expression on Lucifer’s face. Given world enough and time, she thinks she could find every emotion in existence written there.

“Can you smile?” he asks.

Chloe lifts her lips in a trembling smile.

Lucifer also smiles.

There’s that feeling again. Safety. But—

“Can you repeat a simple sentence?” asks Lucifer.

“Can you repeat a simple sentence?” Chloe says.

“You’re not having a stroke, Chloe,” he says. He moves toward her then, and wraps his arms around her, and she lets him. His body is hot, as if he’s been exerting himself, and he smells like…like a down pillow. “You’re safe. I know it doesn’t make any sense now. I have to leave. Please stay here. Get some rest. _Ella!”_ he shouts.

Ella appears from her room, wearing Hello Kitty pajamas, the makeup she wore to the appointment still intact. She raises her eyebrows. “Lucifer! I thought you were in Bronson. How did you get back so fast? Is Chloe all right? What happened?”

“Chloe’s had a bit of a shock. Will you keep her company? I have to leave. There’s something I need to take care of.”

Ella looks suspicious and angry. “What did you do to her?”

“She was in danger and I snatched her away rather hurriedly. Please no more questions.” He lowers Chloe onto the couch and kisses her forehead.

“Will you be coming home soon?” Chloe murmurs. 

“Ah — home,” Lucifer says. He’s silent for a few seconds. “I don’t know,” he finally continues. “But — look, I’ll check in within twelve hours. If I don’t…well. It was nice getting to know both of you a little and…and I hope I don’t see you again.”

“Lucifer!” Chloe and Ella both shout angrily.

But he’s already gone.


	11. Chapter 11

Lucifer uses his wings to transport himself back to Bronson. He can’t afford even the five minutes it would take him to fly, so he slips between dimensions, passing over Hell and then back to Earth. It exhausts him, especially since he has done it twice already in the past hour. But what is his energy for, if not to prevent…more of what has already happened. If not to stop… _him._

Maze is still sitting with to the demon Issakar. She’s holding him in her arms, and she startles when Lucifer appears, as if she’s been caught doing something wrong. Maze doesn’t like being caught in her more tender moments. And for all that Issakar has done, and for all that Maze tortured him for it, he’s still Maze’s charge. It’s entirely natural for her to comfort him now.

Lucifer can sense that Issakar’s vital force is almost completely drained. Given time and care, it could be restored. As Lord of Hell, Lucifer used to treat his servants well, making sure they healed from whatever wounds they received while doing his bidding. Knowing now that what has happened is not Issakar’s fault, he regrets that he probably will not be able to save the demon…and in fact what Lucifer needs from him now will require him to endure more torment.

“Where have you been, Lucifer?” Maze wants to know. 

“I’ll explain later,” he says. “For now, make him as comfortable as possible. I need to ask him more questions.”

Lucifer, too, is tender with Issakar now. On his knees, he takes the handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleans some of the blood and dirt off of the demon’s cheek. Issakar opens his eyes a crack.

“My Master,” he croaks. “My sweet Master.”

Lucifer hates this. He’s not made for weeping. For grieving. For killing. 

“Issakar, it will be over soon, I promise,” Lucifer tells him. He wracks his brains to find the right words, ones that will give him the answers he needs without triggering the worst of what was done to Issakar. “Now I must ask you. Look at me. I know you asked me for the mercy of an end. By the power that is my birthright, I compel you to tell me, _What do you desire, that you will receive if I end you?”_

Issakar goes rigid in Maze’s arms. “Please,” he begs.

“You must answer, Issakar,” Lucifer says implacably. 

“Freedom…” Issakar says. He pauses, but Lucifer can tell he hasn’t completely articulated his desire.

“Freedom what, Issakar? Freedom to do what? Freedom from what? Tell me. You know you want to.” Lucifer’s eyes are compelling. Telling Issakar that there is nothing more interesting to his master in the world than knowing him, and the answer he will make to the question.

“Freedom from f-f-f…”

“From what, Issakar?” Lucifer persists. Although he’s sure he knows the answer now. “I love you,” he tells the demon. He kisses his bloody lips. “Freedom from what?”

“F-f-fear,” Issakar says. 

And then his body collapses, and he’s gone.

Gone. Ended. Demons have no soul to pass on to an afterlife. 

Maze throws up her head and howls. Anyone within hearing distance would have soul scarring nightmares tonight.

Lucifer stands up. His hands are balled into fists. His eyes are red. His face is a burned, scarred mask.

 _“Michael,”_ he growls.


	12. Chapter 12

Chloe isn’t sure how to tell Ella what happened to her. Should she tell her exactly what it seemed like, and risk being sent to a psychiatric ward, or should she bend the truth, which might make Ella more likely to believe the parts that might be important?

She starts out vague.

“I saw someone walking by and I thought it was Lucifer. Lucifer was supposed to be in Bronson. So I texted him. And then he phoned me. He acted like I was in danger and said he would come get me. And then I guess he did. I don’t remember that part, but we ended up here.”

“He couldn’t have been in Bronson, then,” Ella says. “Unless he has wings or something. You and he appeared in the apartment only ten minutes after I walked in.”

Ella goes into Organization Mode, which Chloe has seen her do before. It’s part of the reason she’s so good at forensics. 

“We have mysteries,” says Ella. “Mystery 1: Who is the person who looks like Lucifer? Mystery 2: Why did Lucifer freak out when you told him about him? Mystery 3: Where was Lucifer? Mystery 4: Why did Lucifer say he was in Bronson?” Ella begins drawing on the refrigerator with a Sharpie. “Mystery 5: Where did Lucifer go just now? What’s this about checking in in twelve hours and sounding like he would be dead if he didn’t check in?”

“You know, I bet it has something to do with the murder weapon that Lucifer’s friend was talking about,” muses Chloe.

Ella points the Sharpie at Chloe. “Yes! Mazikeen? Maze? Was that her name? She said she wasn’t the only one who had a knife like that, and then she went off. She was probably looking for whoever else had one.”

“And what if she found them?” Chloe suggests. “What if that was the phone call Lucifer got at the same time we got ours?”

“I thought he had a client, like us, but you’re right, it could have been Maze,” Ella concludes. “What if the guy you saw had the murder weapon, and Maze called to tell Lucifer she’d seen him?”

Chloe has more questions. “That might explain why Lucifer assumed I was in danger. But why did he say he was going to Bronson?”

Ella fills in he chart with their working theory.

1: Who is the person who looks like Lucifer: owner of murder weapon  
2: Why did Lucifer freak out when you told him about him: he is murderer   
3: Where was Lucifer: close to Marina Del Rey   
4: Why did Lucifer say he was in Bronson: ???  
5: Where did Lucifer go just now: ???

They look at the underpopulated chart with chagrin. “Should we call in the team?” Ella asks.

“And tell them what?” Chloe wants to know. “I might have seen the Escort Killer in Marina del Rey half an hour ago, because Lucifer acted weird when I mentioned him, and he looks like Lucifer? That’s not much to go on.”

Ella’s staring at the refrigerator. “What if the guy is, like, Lucifer’s brother or something? That would explain why they look alike and maybe why Lucifer reacted when you said you saw him.”

“Lucifer has a brother who is a serial killer and he didn’t tell us?”

“He might not have known.”

“Really?” says Chloe, incredulous. “Hell of a thing not to know about your flesh and blood.”

“I have five brothers. How many siblings do you have?”

“Well, none. My parents had a hard time conceiving.”

“Trust me on this. Just because you share some DNA with a person, doesn’t mean you know them.”

Chloe’s phone beeps.

“It’s Lucifer!” she says happily. She shows Ella the text. 

U ELLA MEET ME DEVILS GATE DAM ASAP COME ALONE

They look at each other, and both their faces fall. 

“It’s a trap,” they both say.

“Lucifer must have been kidnapped,” says Ella, her eyes going wide. “Because it’s his phone. We have to go.”

“Or contact the rest of the team,” suggests Chloe.

“Whoever kidnapped him might hurt Lucifer if we bring backup.”

“You’re right. Let’s go,” says Chloe. She knows it’s risky. She knows it’s stupid not to tell the team. And she knows she’s going to take the stupid risk. She doesn’t know why, but she’s going to.

Ella seems to feel the same way. “We’re going alone,” Ella says, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t go in prepared.”

Chloe doesn’t have a lot of weapons at the apartment, but she manages to hide her small pistol, a few knives, and some knitting needles about her person. 

Ella’s arsenal is more impressive — knuckle dusters, lock picks, pocket tools, weighted chain, maglite, and — 

“Why the aluminum water bottle, Ella?” She’s wearing it on a sash around her waist.

“One, because never go somewhere you don’t know without water. Two—“ she pulls off the sash, flicks her arm, and the attached water bottle sails into the kitchen, knocking a heavy pot onto the floor, and then comes back to her hand.

“I never thought of using a water bottle as a flail,” Chloe says. 

“You pick up these things when you grow up in Detroit.”

As they make their way to Chloe’s car, she realizes that if they want the element of surprise, they had better redistribute their weapons to avoid making clanking noises.

Then she stops short. Someone is leaning against the car.

Someone with a storm of dark hair, wearing leather, and looking dangerous.

And juggling three karambits. 

“Going somewhere?” the woman named Mazikeen asks. 

Ella looks ready to take her on. Chloe frantically tries to get her to stand down. “Listen to what she has to say first!” she hisses. Then she addresses Mazikeen — Maze, she remembers Lucifer calling her.

“Lucifer sent a message. He’s at Devil’s Gate Dam and wants Ella and me to meet him there.” 

“How do you know it was Lucifer?” Maze demands.

“It was his phone number.” 

“Did you talk to him, or was it a text?”

Chloe slaps her forehead. “I’ll try phoning him now.” She grabs her phone.

“Hello, Lucifer Morningstar here,” comes his familiar voice. 

“Lucifer! I’ve been wondering where you were!”

“I’m at Devil’s Gate Dam. Meet me,” says Lucifer’s voice. “There’s something important you need to see.”

“I will. Is it about the guy who looks like you?”

There’s a short silence. Then Lucifer chuckles. “Yes, it’s about him. I’ll see you soon, Chloe.” 

Chloe hears a loud noise on the other end, but she can’t make out what it is, and then the line’s disconnected. 

“What did he say?” Ella wants to know. “What _exactly_ did he say?”

Chloe tells her.

“It’s not Lucifer,” Ella says with finality.

“But it sounded just like him.”

“I’ve known Lucifer for years,” says Ella. “He always answers the phone by saying ‘Hello, darling. Are you naked?’”

Chloe’s stressed to the max and scared stiff, but she can’t help a whoop of laughter. 

Maze is drumming her fingers against the car door, increasingly loudly. 

“He said he was at Devil’s Gate Dam?” she asks. “I’ll go. You stay here.” She spins on her heels and heads off.

 _“Wait!”_ says Chloe. She thinks Maze probably will ignore her. But Maze pauses and turns. “We need to all go,” Chloe tells her.

“I work alone,” says Maze with finality. But she doesn’t move.

“Look. I don’t expect you to care about anyone but Lucifer. But if we are there, even if we’re captured, we can make things more difficult for his kidnapper. And that makes things easier for you, if you want to be the big hero.”

“You have a point,” says Maze with grudging respect. “But you forget about the part where you might be killed.”

“I’m willing to take that risk,” says Chloe.

“Me, too,” says Ella firmly.

“Fine, but have you considered what it might do to _Lucifer_ if you die trying to rescue him? To know that his brother succeeded in destroying all the people he cares about most?”

“His brother,” says Ella.

“The people he cares about most?” says Chloe. “He scarcely even knows me.”

Maze fixes her with a stare. “He let you share his _Talisker,”_ she says. 

Chloe has nothing to say in response to that. But it makes her all the more determined to participate in the rescue. She stares back at Maze, and Maze seems to understand. 

“All right. I still work alone,” Maze says. “You go in the car, and I’ll take my motorcycle.” She takes several steps backward. “Oh, and you’ll need these. They are the only way to hurt Michael. Careful, they are very, _very_ sharp.”

She tosses two karambits. Casually, as if they were hockey pucks. 

Both Chloe and Ella catch the knives. Ella uses the thumb loop to spin hers and flips it into a storage sheath on her hiking boot, as if she regularly carried tiger-claw daggers. Chloe stows hers in her jacket.

“What do you mean, they’re the only things that can hurt... Michael? You said his name is Michael?”

Maze nods, and then seems to be momentarily at a loss for words. “Let’s just say he has very, very good armor,” she finally says. “Bullets won’t hurt him. Punches and kicks might knock him down, but won’t hurt him. He’s very dangerous.”

“Is there anyone working with him? Any accomplices?”

“No. Lucifer and I took care of him. Poor misused devil. All right, I’m outta here.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chloe pulls into the parking lot. A familiar form is striding toward them. “Is that Lucifer or Michael?” she hisses to Ella.

“Michael,” says Ella. “He’s wearing Lucifer’s suit jacket, but Lucifer _never_ wears loafers.”

“We have to play along,” Chloe says. “We don’t know where Lucifer is.”

They get out of the car. Michael stops about fifteen feet away from them. “Good, you’re here,” says Michael, in Lucifer’s voice. “Quickly, follow me.” He walks backward, watching them.

Chloe is now completely sure this is not Lucifer. Lucifer would have approached and touched them in greeting, no matter the urgency. 

They follow, keeping their distance. At the end of a short path, they see what looks like a large tool shed, with dim light seeping through grimy windows. 

“In here,” says Michael. 

Chloe and Ella exchange glances. They hang back, hoping Michael will enter the shed first. 

“What’s in there, Lucifer?” demands Chloe.

“The thing I wanted to show you.”

“Stop being so mysterious, dude,” says Ella. 

Michael is suddenly pointing a pistol at them. “In. Now,” he says. 

So much for pretending. They enter the dimly lit shed. “All the way in,” Michael orders. 

Chloe skirts a table set in the middle of the room. She sees a variety of tools on it—no, they’re implements of torture. Pincers, spiked baton, and three blades, including one karambit. They are all spattered and stained with blood.

Michael enters and shuts the door.

“Is it about the guy who looks like you?” he says, imitating Chloe’s voice. “Yes, it’s about him,” he says in Lucifer’s voice. _“I’m from someplace very far from here,”_ he says, and Chloe recognizes the voice of Mr Angel.

Fuck. 

She hears a growling sound. 

“Lucifer!” cries Ella. Then Chloe sees him. His legs are spread and shackled to the wall, his arms are pulled back behind him. He’s shirtless, and his face and torso are covered with bruises and dried blood. He’s the source of the growling sound, and his expression is savage. 

“Michael,” he snarls. “Let them go. You want to hurt me, kill me, fine, but leave them out of it. They never did anything to you.”

Ella has run to Lucifer and is holding him, whispering something, her hands around his waist. Michael turns the pistol on Chloe. “Get away from him, Ella, or I will hurt your friend Chloe sooner than I originally planned.”

Ella creeps away from Lucifer. Her hand hovers near her boot and Chloe knows she’s trying to judge whether she can throw Maze’s knife at Michael. But the pistol makes the risk too great.

“Don’t look into his eyes, either of you,” says Lucifer.

Michael is upon Chloe in three quick strides and he slaps her face with enough force to knock her to the floor. She lands on her belly with her head half under the table, shrieking in pain and anger. She tries to get hold of the blade Maze gave her, but it’s trapped underneath her, and she feels dazed.

“That was just a little love pat,” Michael drawls. “The next time anyone gets out of line, I might actually get annoyed. So _stay still and shut up.”_

He paces nearer to Lucifer and chuckles. “Oh but having them here is the whole point, Luci. I never could force you to reveal your greatest fear, so I had to figure out what you feared the old fashioned way, by guesswork. How did I do, _brother?_ Does it torture you to know Issakar and I killed your friends? I made sure that each death was your fault, you know. I asked them all about you first. I only killed the ones who were your friends.” He bows toward Ella. “Like this lovely lady.” His gaze sweeps over Chloe. “And this one, although she pretended not to know you. And these two owe me, by the way. I didn’t get to see everything I paid for when I hired them, because they had to get sneaky and try to see behind the mirror.” 

“When I’m through with you,” snarls Lucifer, “your greatest wish will be never to have been born.”

“Too bad you didn’t eat me in Mum’s womb, when you had a chance.”

“For the last time, why are you doing this? What do you _want?”_

“What do I truly desire?” mocks Michael, using Lucifer’s accent. “I have it, Samael. I have it at last.” He grips Lucifer’s chin in his hand. “I desire to have you at my mercy. I desire you to grovel in fear before me. And then I desire to crush your hope.”

He lets go of Lucifer’s face and paces in a small, restless circle in front of him. Then he turns to face him again, his eyes blazing angrily at his twin.

“What I want, in fact, is that you acknowledge at last, that _fear is a greater miracle than desire.”_

 _FEARTHEMIRACLE,_ Chloe thinks.

He looks at Lucifer’s twisted face and laughs. “There, you see? That twitch on your face. You wanted to spit defiance at me, but you were afraid to. Afraid I’d hurt your lovely friends. That is so sweet. And _pathetic.”_

He turns and notices Chloe at his feet. She plays “unconscious, possibly dead” for all she’s worth, remembering her childhood games of hide and seek, when she would hold her breath as long as she could when her seekers drew near. 

Michael prods at her with the toe of his loafer. “Hm, I guess I hit this one a little too hard. I’ll wait a while and see if she revives, before I start having my fun with her.” His lip curls. “I don’t even like sex. It’s disgusting. But I know using them that way will upset you the most, won’t it, Luci?”

If a look could destroy, Lucifer’s would have rent Michael’s body into its component atoms. 

Something suddenly rattles the windows of the shed. 

Michael tenses, looks around, but sees nothing. He swipes a hand through his hair, then looks over to where Ella is still crouching, glaring up at him. “Strip,” he orders. “And no funny stuff with all the little weapons you’ve got hidden in your clothes. Not that they can do more than annoy me.” 

Ella stands up. She takes off the sash belt.

“Oh, look. What a clever homemade flail,” says Michael. “I remember practicing with these in angel school.” He steps close, snatches the belt and bottle, and moves away before Ella can react. 

A breeze blows through the shed. The electric lights flicker. 

Michael looks startled again, but it doesn’t distract him for long. He swings the weapon and hits Lucifer in the face with it.

Ella gasps, and Chloe almost forgets to stay quiet. Lucifer grunts and growls, but the blow doesn’t seem to cause him a lot of pain.

Michael throws the weapon into the corner. “Continue,” he orders, addressing Ella. 

Ella unbuttons her jacket and starts shrugging it off. 

“Actually, let’s have the goodies out of the pockets first,” he orders. 

Ella slowly divests the jacket pockets of knuckle dusters, pocket tools and a maglite. She places them on the table with the implements of torture. Then she produces a weighted length of chain.

“A kusarifundo!” Michael says. “Do you know how to use it, I wonder?”

He clearly means only to taunt her, so he’s taken off guard when Ella leaps at him, and the chain wraps around his gun hand. She yanks. Michael drops the gun, which skitters to a stop by Chloe’s body. Ella pulls him to the ground. But he moves faster than Chloe has seen anyone move, and before she knows it, he’s straddling Ella, holding her wrists to the floor. 

“Nice try,” Michael says. “Now, tell me, Ella,” he continues, looking into her eyes. “What do you —”

 _“Don’t look at him, Ella!”_ Lucifer shouts.

Chloe chooses this moment to move. She shouts, rolls, coming to one knee, and picks up the gun. But Michael’s too close to Ella to take the shot. 

The next second, Ella twists out from under Michael using some esoteric martial arts move. Chloe puts pressure on the trigger of the gun. 

_“Not the gun, Chloe,”_ hisses Lucifer. _“The knife —”_

Chloe looks at the table where she saw the karambit earlier. The table’s empty. But she could have sworn...

Then she remembers the knife Maze gave her, in her jacket. She reaches for it, throwing the gun to the corner of the room. 

Simultaneously, Ella leaps at Michael again, holding something in her hand.

There’s a whirlwind of dust and an explosion of noise — a tearing sound and a terrible scream that sounds like it was born from the bowels of Hell.

When the dust clears, Michael is on his back on the floor. Chloe, Ella, and Maze are crouching over him, holding tiger-claw-shaped knives at his throat, belly, and groin. Lucifer’s hands are free. His ankles are still shackled, but the shackles have been ripped away from the wall. 

He stands over Michael. An avenging angel.

Michael’s demeanor has changed. His eyes are squeezed shut and his face twisted in fear. “Don’t hurt me!” he cries. 

Lucifer’s eyes are heavy-lidded as he gazes down at his twin. 

“Chloe, give me your knife,” he says. 

Chloe doesn’t want to. She is not a fan of vigilante justice. “Lucifer,” she begins.

 _“Please.”_ Lucifer’s voice cracks.

Chloe hands Lucifer her knife. Wondering suddenly who the Hell he really is. 

“Ella, give Maze your knife. Then go tend to Chloe. I know you. I’m sure you brought first-aid supplies. Thanks for slipping me the lock-picks, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” Ella grabs her jacket, then she and Chloe retreat into a corner. But they don’t administer first aid to each other. They can’t tear their eyes away from what’s unfolding. 

Lucifer picks up Michael by the collar of his shirt and throws him onto a chair. He and Maze are still holding the three knives on him. 

“Now what was it you asked me?” says Lucifer. 

“Don’t — don’t hurt me,” gasps Michael. 

“It’s a little too late for you to request that favor of me, you know,” says Lucifer, deceptively mildly. “Maybe you should have asked _before_ the thirteen murders.”

“Thirteen? I only killed twelve people!” Michael protests.

“Oh, _only_ twelve. But hmmm…I wonder where your accomplice Issakar got off to?”

Michael’s eyes go wide. “I didn’t kill him! If he’s dead it must be by your hand!”

“That’s right. He died by my hand. _Because he begged me to end him._ You knew that binding him to you by means of fear would have that result. Didn’t you?” 

“No!” cries Michael.

“They don’t call me the Father of Lies for nothing, Michael. I don’t tell them, but I know when they’re being told. You _knew._ Yes. You knew that even if I managed to escape you, I’d have Issakar’s death on my hands. No, pardon me. Not death. Death is merely a transition. Issakar didn’t transition. He ceased to be. His _undoing_ is on my hands.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” hisses Michael. “He was only a demon.”

Maze’s hand moves with lightning quickness, and there’s a six inch long slash in Michael’s shirt over his heart. Blood seeps from the wound. Michael cries out with pain and fear. 

“Why do you care? It is _only_ a flesh wound,” hisses Maze. 

Lucifer looks pensive. “Maze, I can’t remember. Are there any Celestials in Hell? I mean, other than the ones helping to run it. And Mum, of course.”

“No, Lucifer. Perhaps some have died, but they didn’t end up in Hell.”

“So, if we cut Michael’s throat, we have no idea what will happen to him, do we? If he were human, he’d certainly end up in Hell, but...”

“No, please,” begs Michael. 

“Lucifer,” Ella calls out from the corner she and Chloe have taken shelter in.

Lucifer turns to look at them. The pain on his face...Chloe can’t stand it. She turns her head away, feeling ashamed, but unable to make any other choice.

“I don’t know what you’re going to do,” says Ella. “I don’t want to know. I can’t be allowed to know. I can’t speak for Chloe, but I need to leave.”

“I should leave too,” says Chloe.

“Yes, that’s for the best,” says Lucifer.

“Thanks for the help,” says Maze as they creep past. “Guess some hu— people aren’t so bad after all.”

As Chloe and Ella head down the path back to the car, all they hear are crickets and the crunch of gravel under their feet. And then, dimly, a shriek, but it’s quickly cut off.


	14. Chapter 14

“It’s 4:00 AM. You’re leaving now, Ella?” Chloe asks, as she watches Ella angrily toss stuff into a duffel bag.

Ella glares at Chloe, her face full of pain and confusion. “I have got to get out of here,” she says. “This apartment is reminding me of things I experienced that I don’t know how to believe.” She puts her hands over her face and shakes her head violently. “Will you be all right? Sorry to run out on you, but I feel like I have hit a brick wall going sixty miles per hour.”

“You don’t need to stay on my account,” says Chloe, dodging the question. “Are you going home?”

“No, I don’t feel safe there right now. But I have someplace else to go. If you don’t mind, I’m not going to tell you where it is. 

“That’s fine,” says Chloe.

“If you see Lucifer, tell him…” Ella pauses. “Never mind. Bye now.” She kisses Chloe briefly on the mouth, and then she is gone.

Chloe stays. She’s not ready to return to the house she shares with her mother. She feels incomplete, unclean, lost. She needs to be in a place that’s temporary, so that she doesn’t infect her…home? — no, her usual dwelling place — with these feelings.

Dawn is about to break when she finally makes it into her bed and falls into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

Chloe wakes suddenly, unsure where she is. She hears footsteps, water running, glassware clinking. 

Her door opens a crack. She gazes muzzily at Lucifer. 

“I’m just checking if you’re all right,” he says, opening the door wider. His voice is rougher than usual. 

“I don’t need an ambulance. What time is it?”

“Around six o’clock in the evening. There’s a latte with your name on it in the kitchen.”

The promise of a latte propels Chloe out of bed. 

Lucifer is also drinking coffee, adulterated from his flask. He’s impeccably groomed, not a hair out of place. If it weren’t for the bruises on his face and the haunted look in his eyes, you wouldn’t know anything had happened to him. 

When they’re finished imbibing and eating, they sit in the living room, channel surfing.

“May I ask you a favor?” Chloe says.

“Always. It’s what I do,” he says. He looks at her intently. “What do you desire?”

“Can you help the LAPD solve the case? If the Escort Killer just silently disappears, it won’t be good for their reputation.”

He pauses to think briefly. “Yes, I can do that,” he says. 

“For a favor to be named later? Is that how it works?”

“Yes. One solved Escort Killer case for the LAPD. In exchange for a favor to be named later. It’s a deal.” He holds out his hand and she shakes it. It feels ridiculously formal.

Chloe considers asking Lucifer how he’s going to accomplish it. Then decides she doesn’t want to know.

“Is that truly _all_ you want, Chloe?” He seems surprised. 

“Yes, for right now.” She isn’t ready to think about more. Or later. There are some things she needs to sort out in her own head first.

Such as...

“Actually, there’s something else.”

Lucifer turns that intent gaze on her.

“I have questions,” says Chloe.

A worry line appears on his face. “I am not sure it would be good for you to have answers,” says Lucifer. 

Chloe just waits, saying nothing.

“But you may ask,” he eventually says.

“What are demons?”

Lucifer is silent a long time. “Demons do the work of keeping Hell running.”

“And the Devil rules them?”

Lucifer flinches as if she had struck him. “The Devil is responsible for how Hell runs, including taking care of the demons.”

“Can the Devil be in two places at once? On Earth and in Hell at the same time?”

“No. That’s the rub.” 

Chloe wants to know more, but she isn’t sure she could handle it. So they watch _Jeopardy._ Lucifer knows all the questions, except in the Guys Named Doug category. 

“The other day, we were talking about home,” says Lucifer after the show is over.

“I remember,” says Chloe.

“For millennia I had no home and I thought I was fine. And then I found one. And now I don’t want to give it up. But I have a responsibility somewhere else. Can you…carry home with you?”

“I don’t know,” says Chloe, “I’m still at the stage of not having one.”

Lucifer leans over and nuzzles her hair.

When he touches her, at first, all she can think of is the way he looked when he was standing over Michael holding a knife, and she is frightened. 

But then she thinks of going to the firing range with her father. How seriously he took training with his deadly weapon. How she used to ask him if he ever used it in real life, and he would say that he had, but only ever to stop someone, not to kill them. But that if killing someone were the only way to stop them from hurting people he cared about, he would.

“Is Michael in Hell?” she asks.

“Yes,” he says, continuing to nuzzle her hair. “My twin brother has condemned himself to Hell.”

She doesn’t know why he uses that phrasing. That’s another question for another time, perhaps.

Lucifer’s comfort-seeking touch is soothing, and she closes her eyes.

~~~

Chloe wakes up in her bed. She’s on top of the bedclothes, but she’s deliciously warm. 

Then she realizes why. Tucked against her back, with his arms around her, is a sleeping and fully dressed Lucifer. His body is hot, as if he has a fever, and transfers some of that heat to her.

She tries to creep out of bed without waking him but she fails. His eyes open and he looks at her sleepily. 

“Oh dear,” he says, coming awake with a start. “I am terribly sorry. You fell asleep on the sofa and I brought you in here. I meant to lie down just for a minute to get you settled. And that felt like a minute ago. I give you my word nothing else happened.” 

He unwinds from her and starts to get up.

“Lucifer, please don’t go. It feels so good being held. If you’re okay with just doing that.”

“I am more than okay with just holding you, Chloe,” he says, taking her again in his arms. 

Chloe tries to wrap her brain around “the Devil is holding me,” and can’t. But “Lucifer is holding me” feels just fine.


	15. Chapter 15

An anonymous tip calls it in — a body found in Devil’s Gate Dam. White male, middle-aged, multiple stab wounds. Face mutilated. 

There are no records of the deceased in any database. But DNA and hair taken from the body match that found at several of the escort killer crime scenes. And the murder weapon is the same. 

Ella’s not back at the precinct, but she must be monitoring the happenings from wherever she is, because Chloe is blind-carbon-copied on an email from Ella to the lab analyst she is mentoring.

“DNA is weird. Sometimes it doesn’t match the ideal sample that you see in textbooks. Even to the point of not seeming human. But for police work, what matters is whether the markers match, not all the rest of it. You’ve made the case that the body is connected with the crime scenes. You did good.”

At first, speculation is rampant. Is this the Escort Killer? Or has the Escort Killer moved on to a new type of victim? The DNA evidence suggests the former, but what if the killer had accomplices and this was one of them? If so, he is still out there. 

But the public, and the bigwig city official, and the Commissioner seem ready to accept the theory that the body is the Escort Killer. Perhaps he finally picked the wrong victim—one who fought back. They’re ready to move on and leave the speculating to a few small, muckraking publications. 

“We’re shutting down the undercover op,” Chloe’s Lieutenant tells her over the phone. “But the apartment is paid up for another week, so you don’t have to rush moving back home.”

~~~

Chloe shoves the straw around in her strawberry shake. It’s her first day back at work, and it feels weird.

“Not hungry, Chlo?” asks Dan with a hint of concern in his voice. She has only taken a few bites of the taco he made for her.

“I’m not feeling all that great,” she admits, her eyes fixed on the pink foamy concoction. 

“Is something going on?” he asks. 

Chloe starts to come out with the excuses she’s told all her life when someone pried too deeply into her personal thoughts. But “Nothing, I’m fine” dies on her tongue.

“I guess there is,” she says. “Dan, I’m not feeling it. Us, I mean. I’m not going to say never, but I think I need some space right now. I’m sorry.”

Dan’s face freezes into “carefully neutral.” 

“Okay, Chloe. I guess I was worried something like that was happening. I’m not happy about it, but I understand. I know this mission was really stressful for you, and maybe you’ll feel differently after you recover from it. In the meantime, take the space you need.”

“Thank you, Dan.” She kisses his cheek.

“Could you tell me one thing, though? Is it because of how I’ve behaved? I know I gave you a hard time over the escort job you had to do. I realize now, I shouldn’t have teased you like that.”

“Yes, you shouldn’t have. But no, it’s not about that. Not even a little.” 

She doesn’t know how to tell Dan that what she’s trying to wrap her head around is like an entire field filled with daisies, and the escort job is at most one single petal on one of those daisies.

“Thank you for telling me.” He takes a few bites of taco, letting the conversation lapse. A moment of silence in memory of the relationship that is no longer, perhaps.

“How’s Ella? She didn’t come in to work today,” he asks, trying to change the subject.

“I don’t know. Fine, I guess,” says Chloe. She trusts Ella is taking care of herself in her own way, and she’ll be OK. Ella is a survivor.

“Well, back to the sausage factory,” says Dan, standing and wiping taco crumbs from his shirt. He starts to go in for a kiss, but then remembers and offers Chloe his hand to shake instead. 

It hurts, but it feels right.


	16. Chapter 16

After work, Chloe heads back to the apartment, grateful for the opportunity to avoid her mother for another week. She’s not ready to face her. Or anything but work. There are still too many questions stewing in her head.

She’s surprised when Lucifer walks in.

“I assumed you’d be gone, now that the op is over,” she tells him. 

“I am, but I left something behind.”

“What?”

“You.”

She stares at him. 

“I’d like to call in the favor you owe me,” he says.

“What do you want?” she asks.

“May I take you out for dinner and then a drive?” he asks, as if he were the perfect English gentleman, and not LA’s most depraved, queer, kinkster escort and dealer in favors. 

“A goodbye dinner?”

He nods solemnly. “Yes, I suppose it will be.”

“Sure, why not,” she says, and tucks her hand into his offered elbow.

On their after-dinner drive, Lucifer stops across the street from an impressive high-rise. “This is the building I hope the El Lay collective will own someday.”

“Wow. That’s ambitious.”

“Right now we can’t afford anything this grand, but with any luck (and I do have phenomenal luck), in five years or so, we’ll turn it into a nightclub. I want to call it Lux,” he tells her.

“Light bringer, Morningstar, Lux — It’s a theme,” she says.

“You noticed!” he says, beaming. “Most people think it refers to ‘luxury,’ and that too, but...”

“I hope El Lay fares well without you at its helm,” Chloe says. 

“I have hope,” he says. “I’ve delegated all the important tasks.”

“Including the phenomenal luck?”

Lucifer scowls. “That’s harder to delegate.”

“Some things take a personal touch?” she says, putting her hand on top of his, resting on the gear shift of his vintage Corvette. 

“Some things do.” He works the gear shift. “No, go ahead and leave your hand there,” he says as they push back into traffic.

The confidence of his hand on the shifter feels exciting.

They wind up in one of the Griffith Observatory parking lots overlooking the city. 

“Tell me more about Maze,” Chloe suggests. “You said demons keep Hell running, but she’s here?”

She still feels weird talking about devils and demons and Hell as if they’re real. But after what she went through — was it only a few days ago? — she can’t confidently assert she believes in the same wholly rational, scientific world that she lived in before. So she puts a box around it, half-pretending it’s a fictional world they’re discussing. A roleplay game, or a movie franchise.

Lucifer toys with her hand, which he’s kept possession of ever since they left the site of the future Lux. 

“She followed me. We’re a team. She’s my left-hand demon.”

“What does the left-hand demon of the Devil do when the Devil is in LA? Is she a sex worker too?”

“Sometimes. Mostly she doesn’t have the patience for it. She’s the organizational brains behind El Lay. And chief bartender for Nox, our current nightclub.”

“Chief bartender,” Chloe goes on. “I can see how that would be a good fit of a job for a demon. Wrangling bar patrons must be similar to wrangling damned souls.”

“I’ll tell Maze you said that. She hates it here. She’s homesick for Hell.”

“Oh, so she likes Hell better than you.”

“She was...born there. It’s home for her. I wasn’t.”

“You grew up in Heaven?”

“I originally lived in Silver City. Yes.”

“But that’s not home for you either.”

“I was cast out. It sours the memories.” 

They look out over the twinkling lights of the City of Angels.

“Chloe.”

“Yes, Lucifer?”

His eyes are bright.

“I’d like to kiss you now.”

“Yes. Kiss me in the Griffith Observatory parking lot like we’re teenagers making out on our first date.”

“Well, we are in the Griffith Observatory parking lot, and it is our first date,” he says. “‘Two out of three ain’t bad,’ as you Americans say.”

His lips meet hers.

This kiss starts out gentle like their first one, but there’s no passivity to it. They are both intent on learning things about each other. 

Chloe is also learning things about herself.

Since it’s a one-time thing, she figures she’ll probably never find out if she’s finally fallen under the spell of Lucifer’s mojo, or if she’s desperate to put kidnapping and torture and murder behind her, or if she’s just ready to take the next step with a guy who’s been kind to her during a stressful case. 

All she knows is that when their lips meet, it’s as if her whole body goes up in flames. 

Something similar is going on for him, if the growly moan that spills out of his mouth simultaneously is any indication. 

The Corvette proves a constricting environment for making out. There’s no way one of them can get on top of the other, or even manage full body contact. 

“I know this car is supposed to be a chick magnet, Lucifer, but it’s impractical for this purpose,” Chloe whispers.

“I don’t need a chick magnet!” he scoffs. “I bought it because…well, can you honestly see the Devil driving anything else?”

“A Hummer,” Chloe teases.

Lucifer looks stricken. 

“Ken Kesey’s bus?” 

“Been there, done the LSD,” he tells her. 

The interior of the car fogs up, so they put the top back down. That means their makeout session is limited to what they can do sitting side by side in public — kisses, hands surreptitiously slipped under or into clothing, naughty whispers about what they’d like to be doing to each other, given more room. 

And, for Chloe, less of an audience. Fortunately, Lucifer suggests doing it on the hood of the car only the once.

“That much exhibitionism isn’t a turn-on for me,” she confesses.

Lucifer fetches a voluminous blanket from the trunk.

Chloe then learns something else about herself. “Under the blanket, in public” is a huge turn-on. 

In between kisses, using only his right hand, Lucifer slowly, persistently nudges at her clothing, until he’s pulled aside her shirt and bra and his fingers slide across her bare nipple. He kisses her hard at the same time so her cry is muffled by his mouth.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “We don’t want to attract too much attention.” And then he claims the nipple between his fingertips again. 

“You…” She can’t finish the sentence. She claps her hand over her mouth. 

“I want it in my mouth,” he murmurs. She thinks he’s just teasing, until his head ducks under the blanket, and his mouth closes around her nipple, licking and sucking. Chloe bites her lip nearly bloody trying to keep quiet, struggling not to take the blanket off so she can watch...and then she taps out.

He re-emerges, a smug grin on his face, and licks her swollen lip to soothe it. 

“Finding it difficult to keep quiet, my dear?” 

“You brat,” she whispers. 

“If you want to go somewhere more private, just say the word.”

“Not yet,” she says. “I have plans under this blanket.”

“Oh, _do_ you?”

Now Lucifer leans back in his seat and rambles on about the view, the weather, Pikachu Pez, all sorts of nonsense. All the while his right hand is at her waist, undoing her belt buckle, popping the button on her jeans, slowly lowering the zipper. 

Meanwhile, her left hand has pulled his shirt out of his pants. She’s stroking his stomach, which ripples delightfully, and working his belt and trouser fastenings. They are making a race out of it, but there are no hares in this race, only turtles, slowly moving toward their goal.

Lucifer gets her jeans unfastened more quickly than she can manage his trousers. But he’s still working her jeans off her ass when she finishes unzipping his fly. He hisses with relief as his cock is freed from the constriction of the trousers, and then with pleasure as she wraps her hand around the shaft. Her fingers only barely meet. 

Then he goes back to rambling — about the history of Los Angeles, this time, as if he’s memorized a tour guide’s spiel — while his cock twitches in her hand, growing bigger and stiffer by the second.

“I learned after I came here that the Hollywood sign was originally an advert for a real estate development,” says Lucifer, and then in the same matter-of-fact tone of voice he continues, _“I want to taste you.”_ His hand touches her belly, moves downward, under the band of her panties, resting just where her pubic hair begins. 

“And then it became one of the first television stations. _You probably already know. I mean, what I’m going to try to get away with next.”_ His hand inches lower, his finger touches the top of her slit. Her hips buck up and push the finger a little farther into her folds. “Yesss,” he whispers. 

She squeezes him a little harder, working her hand up his shaft. Hears his low, rumbly purr, as if he’d just started up the Corvette’s engine. 

He shuts up then. A casual observer might assume each of them was lost in their own thoughts. It would take a very intimate observer to discern Lucifer’s fingers slowly opening her folds, exploring. Her palm sliding over the head of his cock, spreading the moisture that leaks from the tip. 

He pushes just the tips of two fingers into her. She feels the stretch and her body screams at her that she needs more, to be filled to the brim, to be taken. But all that escapes her is a harsh breath. 

Lucifer captures the hand she’s got in his lap, removing it from his cock. “Concentrate on what I’m doing to you,” he whispers. 

Then he’s withdrawing his fingers, stroking them slowly along her folds to her swollen clit, lingering there for a couple of excruciating seconds. 

He slips the wet fingers into his mouth. His cheeks hollow as he sucks them. He licks his lips. “I would love to have more of you. So much more,” he says thickly. 

Chloe nearly comes on the spot, thrilled by the need in his voice and the images his words conjure in her mind.

“Yes,” whispers Lucifer, as if he can read her thoughts. “I want you coming on my tongue...a dozen times might be enough to satisfy me.”

Chloe bites her sore lip again. “Lucifer...fuck.” 

“And after that, a delicious fuck. My cock in you, taking you slow and deep. For as long as you want.”

He slips his hand back under the blanket, back between her legs, pushing the panty fabric aside. Even under the blanket, she feels exposed. 

“But first, I want this.”

His fingers find her clit and he begins teasing it. Lightly. Mercilessly. And then he zeroes in on her new kink, as if he could read her thoughts. 

“My, what secrets this blanket hides. Your shirt and bra pulled up, your tits exposed, your jeans around your thighs. My hand between your legs, touching you, giving you something you want desperately. Does that excite you?”

“Fuck yes...Lucifer,” Chloe gasps. 

“If I keep this up, you’re going to come soon,” he tells her. His fingers continue their sweet torment. “What if someone hears you, crying in pleasure as I bring you?” 

“I…I think I want them to hear.” 

He starts stroking her clit harder and faster. “Chloe, let them hear you coming for me.”

In no time she flies over the edge, crying out loudly, again and again, because he somehow knows just how to touch her to prolong the pleasure.

She finishes to the tune of a few whoops and scattered applause from around the parking lot.

That starts her giggling.

“And on that note, which I think was E above high C, would you like to go somewhere a little more private and spacious now?”

“Sure.” She still can’t stop giggling.

He moves the blanket off his lap and resettles himself in the driver’s seat. At some point in there he’s managed to stow the equipment back into his trousers, although they look a little strained.


	17. Chapter 17

She expects him to drive back to the apartment, but they pull into the entrance to a fancy hotel. Lucifer tosses his keys to the valet, whom he calls Jamir. Chloe has managed to rearrange her clothing, so Jamir doesn’t get an eyeful when he removes the blanket to offer her a hand out of the little convertible. 

She wonders if Jamir assumes she’s one of Lucifer’s clients. Then she wonders whether she is in fact one of Lucifer’s clients. Is this his way of paying her back for helping rescue him from Michael? 

Then Lucifer’s by her side, taking possession of her arm, giving her a sly smile, and she doesn’t give a shit what he thinks is going on. She just wants more of him. As soon as possible. 

“Wait right here,” he says, settling her in the lobby. He goes behind the registration desk, puts an arm around one of the men standing there, and they enter the manager’s office, closing the door. 

A few minutes later he’s back at her side. He leads her to the elevator bank, produces a red card from his pocket, and inserts it into the slot labeled Penthouse.

“Lucifer, when you said somewhere more spacious, I didn’t think you meant this,” Chloe protests, trying to take in the multi-room suite. 

“Niko behind the desk is a friend of mine, and lets me use this whenever it’s not booked.” 

“What do you offer Niko in return?” she asks, and then remembers that he said the deals were private. “Never mind.”

“If I told you a blow job, would you be jealous?”

“No, I’d say ‘let me watch next time.’”

Lucifer picks up the telephone handset.

 _“Kidding!”_ protests Chloe.

“Good,” he says. “I would rather pleasure _you_ with my mouth tonight.” He takes her in a hard embrace. “For starters.”

He gives her a kiss to go with the embrace, and arousal floods through her like a rip tide. She stumbles. Lucifer chuckles against her mouth, pressing her tighter against him to hold her up. “Don’t faint on me yet, my dear,” he chides. 

They retire to the master bedroom. 

~~~

Some time later, Chloe floats back down to Earth from orgasm number she-can’t-even-remember, and enjoys the view of Lucifer, naked, on his belly, with his head buried between her open thighs. Her clit is so sensitive at this point that it feels like a stiff breeze might bring her. Lucifer seems to be testing this theory, because he’s holding her lips open with his fingers and blowing gently on her clit, giving it a teasing lick every now and then, just to see her hips jump, hear her groan. 

“Please, Lucifer. Oh _please,”_ Chloe sighs, not sure what she’s begging for, knowing only that this man alone will be able to satisfy her.

“What do you desire, Chloe?”

“I want your cock, Lucifer, please fuck me.”

Lucifer gives her clit a final kiss and rolls onto his back. He strokes his cock once. “I am all yours,” he says. “Come say hello.”

Chloe gets a closer look, and then she can’t keep her hands and mouth off it. 

“What you’re doing feels _wonderful._ But you did say you desired to be fucked,” Lucifer mentions after a little while.

“This is the most magnificent cock I’ve ever been introduced to,” she says. “But it is _not_ going to fit inside me. So I thought...”

“I’m quite sure it will,” he says. “You were coming on three of my fingers a short time ago.”

“Okay, girthwise, maybe. But it’s a lot longer than your fingers.”

“I invite you to trust the expert on Lucifer’s cock, darling. I’ve put it into quite a few people.”

She laughs. “Fair enough.”

“Now, how do you want to be fucked by the monster cock?” he says. “Let me guess.” He rolls on top of her. 

She wraps her legs around his hips, and then he’s inching it into her with short, shallow thrusts. Just the sensation of being stretched open, little by little, causes her to clench around him. 

“I feel _claimed,”_ he purrs. “With every squeeze your cunt is saying ‘mine, I’m going to keep it.’” He makes one final thrust and his hips hit her ass. He groans. “Chloe, you feel so good. It’s going to be a challenge for me to last...”

“...you were gonna say ‘more than half an hour,’ right?”

“Darling, you know me so well already. How do you feel?”

“So, so full. And fuck, I _really_ like it.”

“Mm, I do too.” Lucifer twitches his hips just a little, and she moans. 

“And I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold out for half an hour,” she confesses.

“I have no intention of letting you.” 

He slowly withdraws and returns, the wetness inside her easing his passage. Their sounds of pleasure blend. 

“Come on my cock, Chloe,” he begs her a short while later, as her body starts to shake with the effort of keeping control. “Do you like how I’m fucking you? Show me.” He thrusts in even deeper, with slow, inexorable strokes. “Squeeze me. Let me hear your cries of joy again.” 

“When you ask like that,” she gasps, “and _that,_ and _that…”_

She gives him what he wants. 

~~~

It takes many hours, but they’re finally both fucked out. Chloe is pretty sure she’s never come this many times in a single month, never mind in one evening.

Lucifer wanders out onto one of the balconies, in the nude. He spreads his arms, as if offering to embrace all of Los Angeles. 

“Tonight, I feel like I’m home,” he announces to Chloe. “Thanks to you.” 

She joins him, wearing one of the sumptuous hotel-provided bathrobes, a plush confection in white cotton.

“This reminds me of that night in Marina Del Rey,” she says, fluffing the robe. “And that reminds me, I have been meaning to ask you — how did you get me back to the apartment that night?”

Lucifer goes very still. “What do you remember?” he asks. 

She tells him. “At the time, it all seemed like a dream or hallucination. But now I’m wondering. Did you do something with your...powers?”

Lucifer looks scared. He moves away from her to the corner of the balcony. 

“It’s one thing for me to tell you about such things, but it’s another thing entirely for me to show you,” he says, with his back to her.

“Just tell me, then.”

“If I do, you’ll want me to show you.”

“Maybe, but you don’t have to.”

There’s a long pause.

“I flew you back,” he says softly, still not looking at her.

“You flew... _oh,”_ Chloe says. “Of course, you are...were...” Something tells her not to name what he is. Or was. 

She goes to him and puts her arms around him from behind, rests her cheek against his broad back. 

“I hate them, you know,” he says quietly, his voice tight with pain. 

“You hate your...”

“Wings. They mock me.”

“Why?”

“I can use them to reach the gates of the Silver City — where we...they...my siblings and father live. Where I used to live. Until they cast me out. I can reach the gates but I can no longer enter. The gates are barred to me. And I can use them to reach Hell, where I was banished, where I was expected to rule. Where I don’t want to return. Ever.”

He shudders.

“So they remind me of what I was, of what I no longer am, of where I cannot go, of where I wish not to go. And I hate them, Chloe. Sometimes I want to cut them off.”

“And yet, you flew to me?” 

Lucifer turns around, takes her in his arms. 

“I flew to you, and it was the first time in millennia I was glad to have my wings.”

He moves her backward so she is standing at arm’s length from him. He does a little shimmy with his shoulders, and she hears the sound of air moving, and his wings unfold. Each is as long as he is tall. They are pure white. But only for a second. Then they begin to shine, brighter and brighter, until Chloe thinks they might outshine the sun at noon. And they’re no longer white, but made of all colors. 

After a few seconds, Chloe has to cover her eyes. 

Through her eyelids, a second later, she can tell the light has vanished, the night sky of Los Angeles restored. There’s a hush, as if the whole city had stopped what it was doing to wonder at the wings of the Lightbringer.

Gradually, traffic noises return. 

Chloe stumbles back inside. She plops onto the bed. She recognizes the dazed feeling — similar to the last time she, so she now realizes, saw his wings. 

They’re almost too much for a human mind to take in. 

“Yes, they are,” Lucifer says, as if he had read her thoughts. “The other reason I don’t use them to beat the rush hour traffic.” 

The little jape helps reconnect her to herself. Her body. The mundane — the world.

“Are you all right?” asks Lucifer. He puts a hand on her back — tentatively, as if she were a stranger he’d encountered who’d had a shock. An incongruity given his nakedness, and their earlier intimacies. 

“I—I think so,” she says. 

“What would you like to do now?” 

“Hold you. Talk about nonsense. Sleep in your arms. How long can you stay?”

“Until morning,” Lucifer says. “Then Maze and I need to return to Hell. Time works differently there. Years pass for every day that passes here. My brother managed to get down there and bind a demon. I fear that means things have been unraveling down there for a very long time.” 

“You don’t have to stay with me tonight,” Chloe says.

“Yes, Chloe, I do. If you’ll have me.”

“Please stay with me then, Lucifer.”

~~~

The hour before dawn, Lucifer kisses sleeping Chloe on the head, gets out of bed, and takes a shower. He grumbles to himself about not having his own shaving kit, and tries to make do with the razor provided by the hotel. He’ll have to touch it up later, he decides when he’s finished, but it will do for now.

He turns his head, examining his face in the mirror, and notices something odd. He leans in for another look, then touches the spot under his chin. He looks at his finger.

It’s wet with a bit of blood.


	18. Chapter 18

“Are you ready, Maze?” Lucifer asks.

“I’ve been ready for a long time, Luci. I miss Hell. This place is not home for me. How about you? Will you be glad to get home? I mean, I know it’s not, but it’s the closest thing you have to a home. Right?”

“I’m not so sure. Maybe home isn’t a place for me, it’s people. And demons. It’s who’s around me, part of my life.”

“Sounds annoying,” says Maze. “Give me a nice lake of hellfire any day.”

She rearranges a few of the weapons in her carryall.

”There’s a long list of things that need doing when we get back, if we’re going to set things to rights. First, we need to—”

“Why are you telling me this, Maze? You never bored me with the details of running El Lay.”

“You delegated me to run El Lay, but you can’t delegate me to run Hell. The rules say only Celestials are allowed to run Hell.”

“Rules, rules, _rules!”_ gripes Lucifer. “What’s so special about Celestials? It’s not as if Amenadiel has been doing a good job running Hell. If he were, Michael wouldn’t have been able to bind a demon.”

“I am a mere demon, I don’t know what’s special about Celestials.”

“You’re not a ‘mere demon,’” Lucifer objects. “You’re the greatest of the archdemons and commander of Hell’s armies. You know everything there is to know about Hell.”

“Hard to remember those glory days when I’ve been a bartender for so long. So, what happens if someone other than a Celestial runs Hell?”

Lucifer takes a moment to respond.

“...I honestly don’t know.”

“Seems to me,” says Maze, “there are two kinds of rules to contend with. There are laws of creation. They are the way things are, and you can’t get around them. Like the three realms. Like, human souls can go only two places after death. And then there are the decrees. Like, Lucifer can’t leave Hell. That’s not carved into the fabric of creation. It’s more of a suggestion. So, is ‘only Celestials can run Hell’ a law of creation, or is it someone’s decree?”

Lucifer’s face darkens in anger. “Maze! Some ‘rebel’ I am, that I didn’t ask that question several millennia ago.” 

“Well,” says Maze, “Maybe you didn’t have a reason to ask it then. And maybe you do have a reason now.”

Lucifer thinks of Chloe. And Ella, and Jane, and Niko, and Jamir, and dozens of other people he calls friends, people he spends time with, not only to exchange favors, but because he and they like it. 

Mostly, he thinks of Chloe.

“Maze,” he says. “Would you like me to delegate you to rule Hell?” 

“Hell, yes!” she shouts. 

“I hereby delegate you to rule Hell on my behalf.”

“You’re still going to have to come back for a while,” she warns. “It will take some finagling to set up the details.”

“Yes, I know. But we will make it work. We both have a reason now.”

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> Graphic depictions of violence  
> Minor character death  
> Implied major character death (not any of the pairings)


End file.
